Kith and Kin
by Tragediane
Summary: Story idea evolved from a challenge: Team night out with laser tag. When Callen was 14, he lived with Alina and her family. He hid something in their house. Now, many people know about it, want it, and are willing to kill those who stand in their way.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Notes:**

** Title:** Kith and Kin

** Rating: T**

** Story Premise: **Story idea evolved from a challenge: Team night out with laser tag.

When Callen was 14, he lived with Alina and her family. He hid something in their house. Now, many people know about it, want it, and are willing to kill those who stand in their way.

** Category: **An Angst/Hurt/Comfort G Callen and Sam Hanna novella.

** Pairing Warning: **None.

**Darkfic Warning: **None.

** OOC Warning: **None.

** Crossover Warning: **None

** Warning:** G Callen whump ahead.

NCIS: Los Angeles and its characters are owned by CBS and the producers of it. I do not own anything, but if I did I would torture G Callen more. I am grateful to CBS and the producers of NCIS: LA for their contribution to the world of entertainment.

My stories are a work of my imagination and I do _not_ ascribe them to official story canon. This is a work intended for entertainment outside the official storyline owned by CBS and the producers of NCIS:LA. I gain no profit from the creation and publication of this story. I love to play in the sandbox with the characters and their lives. I especially love to torture G Callen. It is fun!

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><p>Reviews appreciated and welcomed.<p>

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><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

G Callen and Sam Hanna waited outside the Planet Jupiter Family Fun Center in the San Fernando Valley for the doors to open. Their 'opponents' were due to arrive within fifteen minutes. They watched Kensi and Deeks park their car and walk toward them.

"Hey, Kens, Deeks," Callen said.

"Ready to get your butts busted?" Sam asked.

"Our butts, how about yours?" Deeks asked.

"Got your comeuppance written out and signed?" Kensi asked.

"We do," Callen said.

They exchanged the agreements and read them over.

"I thought we agreed this had to be 'G' rated," Sam said, snickering.

"No, the highest… very funny," Kensi said.

Kensi and Deeks watched Callen's face as he read their team's comeuppance. Both held back their laughs.

"I'm not doing this if our team loses." Callen put on his poutiest face.

"Why not, G?"

"I'm supposed to scream and cry out loud next time I get injured."

"What's so bad about that?"

"And you're supposed to hold my hand and console me?"

"So?"

"And it has to be recorded on both camera and voice?"

"So?"

"No way, absolutely no way."

"Come on, G, all they're asking you to do is to not stifle the automatic responses one has to an injury."

"Now I know what you were joking about when you said it had to be 'G' rated."

"What's the big deal, G?"

"Looking like an ass and being embarrassed."

"Yeah, we heard that's your worst nightmare," Deeks said.

"And how do you like your worst nightmare?" Sam asked.

Kensi's jaw dropped when she read it. "No way in…"

"Got a problem with that, Kens?" Callen asked. It was his turn to have fun.

"I'm not doing this."

Deeks grabbed the paper from her. He smiled huge. "Sweet, thanks guys."

"You mean you don't like Deeks?"

"He's a great partner."

"And?"

"Going on a date with him?"

"Yeah, a PG-13 rated date with Deeks."

"Guys, this isn't fair."

"All is fair in love and war," Callen said, snickering. "I have to do something I don't want to do, and you have to do something you don't want to do."

"But this?" Kensi asked.

"The ultimate in getting back at you for beating us."

"I hope you guys lose again."

"No, you," Callen said.

"Children," Sam said, "the doors are open." He laughed and strode inside the family fun center.

Callen followed his partner inside.

Kensi stood outside rereading the paper. "I can't believe they're doing this to me."

"We'll have fun."

"Fat chance," she said, shooting him a look.

"Let's go beat them then," Deeks said.

Kensi and Deeks entered the family fun center and checked into the laser tag desk. They watched Sam and Callen suiting up in their vests.

"We've practiced and I think we can beat them at their game." Deeks grabbed a vest and suited up.

"Hey, Callen, what's the tie breaker?" Kensi asked.

"Did you write one down, Sam?"

"Yeah, a sweet one for them."

"Sounds wicked."

"Okay, I'll bite," Kensi said.

"Close to biting," Sam said, snickering

"No way am I going to kiss him or he's going to kiss me."

"Well, that's the tie breaker for you."

"Guys, you're not playing fair."

"She looks as if she'll start crying." Sam said.

"Close," Callen said.

"I'm totally not fine with this tie breaker."

"Well, you know how it works," Sam said. "If we tie at laser tag after four times or two hours of play, there's a tie breaker. The loser of the tie breaker, must add one more element to their comeuppance for losing."

"Well, Callen you'll love the added element to your comeuppance for losing."

"Okay, lay it on me, Kens."

"I'll lay on it you, real thick."

"I'm not sure I like the way that sounds." His forehead creased.

"Well, you won't have a say in it if you lose."

"Okay, tell me already."

"You can't protest being hospitalized for your injury, and must allow all team members to care for you however they choose."

"What?" Callen's jaw dropped. "Sam, were you privy to this?"

"Yep, I cannot tell a lie."

"You suggested it?"

"Encouraged it."

"What?"

"Consider it bonding time with your team."

"Isn't this bonding time with my team?" he asked.

"Yes, but it's not intimate enough for you, G."

"I'll…"

"What?"

"Never mind." He hoped they could beat Kensi and Deeks this time. This comeuppance agreement started as a result of Sam and Callen losing the last laser tag battle. It was the first time they lost, since the games started six months ago. Their once a week laser tag battle had been fun until they lost. At least that's what Callen thought, especially now that they added the comeuppance element to the loser's side. If the comeuppance had been pointed toward Sam, this wouldn't be so bad. But it was all pointed at him and it sucked big time. He couldn't wait until it was Sam's turn to be on the hot seat. And Deeks, now that would be fun.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks for the reviews and reading my novel.**

**Chapter 2**

The two teams entered the three story, laser tag facility, with their laser tag weapons ready.

"May the best team win," Sam said.

"You too," Deeks said.

"Hey, it's changed since last week," Kens said. "Looks as if the flag zone has moved."

Deeks put a finger to his lips. "Let's go." He grabbed her hand and they ran toward the stairs, fog covering their whereabouts.

"Well, time to find our two wayward agents," Sam said.

Callen scrambled up the opposite staircase with Sam following him. "The fog is thicker than last time."

"I noticed." Sam held a finger to his lips and pointed to the far wall. Before he could get off a shot, his vest glowed bright yellow. "Damn it!"

Callen crouched down low to the ground and inched along the darkest wall toward where the laser beam had come from. Sam followed him, keeping five feet back. A laser beam lit the wall above them. Callen scanned the darkened area and saw the source of the light. He aimed and fired.

"Got me, good shot," Deeks said. He climbed the stairs to the top level and hid behind the first pillar he found.

"We're even," Sam said. "Let's make it a slaughter." He climbed the opposite stairs to the third level, hiding inside the stair well.

"Where's Kensi?" Callen whispered, coming up behind him. He heard a sound behind him and turned. "I'm hit."

"Got you, Callen," Kens said, "now if you keep you mouth shut maybe I won't find you again."

Sam crouched down low and crossed the expanse of the upper story room in the darkness, only his laser weapon glowing green.

Deeks waited until the opposing team member entered his zone and fired.

"Damn, not again, Deeks, have you guys been practicing?"

"Everyday after work."

"What?" Before Sam could speak another word Kensi hit him again. "Damn it, again?"

"At this rate you guys will be beat in the fastest time ever," Deeks said.

"Not if I can help it," Callen said, running toward the bodiless voice. He aimed and fired, hitting his partner instead. "Oops."

"Great, talk about a wayward agent," Sam said, exasperated with his partner's hit on his vest. "You going rogue on me, G?" He chuckled.

"Very funny, I thought you were Deeks," he said. "Where did he go?"

"Who knows?" Sam crossed the room and descended the stairs two at a time, Callen following close behind. They reached the second floor level and headed for the 'Black Hole'. "Two more hits on our side and we're history." He hunkered down, almost on his hands and knees, climbing through the opening into the 'Black Hole'. Millions of stars studded the sky casting eerie shadows on the room's floor. Sam kept his back to the wall, low to the ground. Callen passed along the opposite wall. Each watched the opposing doorways waiting for their opponents to emerge from the shadows. With hand signals, Sam told his partner to poke his laser gun around the corner to his hard left and fire.

Callen inched closer to the doorway and aimed without exposing himself to the oncoming fire of their opponents. Hearing a sound behind him and toward the opposite door, he faced it and was tagged by Kensi. "Oh hell."

"One more, my sweet Callen, and I'll be hearing you scream and cry."

"Never." Callen stormed the opposite exit, firing at every moving laser he saw.

"Callen's gone ballistic!" Deeks yelled at Kensi. "I'm glad he doesn't go ballistic like this when we're on an undercover ops."

"Last minute, freak out to avoid losing," Kens said.

"I'm not freaking out!"

Sam chased after his partner and caught up with him. "Relax, G." He whispered. "Stay calm, man, we can still—" His vest signaled a final hit.

"And you were saying?"

"Game over, boys," Kens said, emerging from the darkness around them.

"This sucks, Sam," Callen said. "Next time, the comeuppance goes to Deeks and you."

"Agreed," Kens said.

"Let's hope you don't get injured between now and next Saturday."

Deeks dashed into the second floor room. "We ready for round two?"

"No round two, Sam got four hits, game over."

"Good deal, can't wait to see you fulfill your comeuppance, Callen." Deeks relaxed against the nearest pillar. "Not that I would want to see you get hurt."

"I'll get you for that, Deeks, I'll think of something embarrassing for you." He snickered.

"I was only joking, Callen."

"Not funny."

"Thank goodness for no tie breaker, huh, G?"

"I'm gonna slug you for even hinting to them about the tie breaker."

"Why?"

"You know I hate being fussed over."

"Yeah, that's why I did it." Sam winked at him.

The two teams strolled toward the exit.

"Hey, didn't we rent it for two full hours?" Callen said.

"It's two full hours or the first person to receive four hits or both team members receive three hits a piece," Deeks said.

"Well, I know what we'll be doing every night this week," Sam said, "practicing for a next weekend's game."

"Remember, it's our choice of venue next weekend," Kens said.

"Damn it, that means no matter where we practice we won't know the configuration of the laser tag arena." Callen gave his best pout.

"We won't know either," Deeks said, "if your lip sticks out any further, it might as well be a tongue."

"He does a great pout," Sam said, winking at his partner.

"Okay, I've heard enough." Callen turned in his equipment. "Can't wait for next weekend's game."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Callen sat in the Challenger's passenger seat, sulking all the way back to his house.

"You're a sore loser," Sam said.

"I don't see you having to take part in any comeuppance."

"Wasn't part of the agreement." He pulled over to the curb. "One partner at a time gets his just punishment."

"Isn't it already enough of a punishment that we lost?" Callen asked. "And now we lost two times in a row. This sucks."

"It was fair—"

"Fair? They practiced every night and we didn't." He crossed his arms. "If I had known—"

"20-20 hindsight?"

"Wish I had some of that right now."

"Do yourself a favor and stay out of trouble."

"Oh great advice, thanks." Callen shot him a look. He hopped out of the car.

"See you on Monday," Sam said.

"This sucks."

"When's the last time you were injured on the job?"

"It's been a while."

"So don't worry about it," he said. "And wasn't that a knife cut to your arm?"

"It hurt bad."

"Knives do that."

"If it happened this time, I'd have to scream if it hurt."

"Yeah, so?"

"It's embarrassing to scream."

"Is that the most embarrassing part?"

Callen leaned on the door with his head in the window. "No, you wanting to see how bad it was and insisting I get treatment."

"You mean me fussing over your injury?"

"Yeah."

"I do it, because I care about you and I'm worried about you."

"How sweet," he said. "Want to come in for a beer?" Callen straightened and stepped onto the curb.

"I'll have to pass on that tonight," Sam said, "need to get home. I'll call you on Monday to let you know when I'll pick you up."

"Sounds good."

Callen strode up his front walkway to the door. He stooped over and retrieved his key out of the plant pot filled with purple and white pansies. Callen started to insert the key in the front door, but stopped. A noise came from inside his house. After depositing the key in his pants pocket, he backed away from his home and autodialed Sam's number. He whispered into the phone. "Sam?"

"Why are you whispering?"

"Someone is inside my home."

"I'll be there in less than five minutes," Sam said. "Don't be a hero."

Callen removed the Glock 17 from his holster and readied it. He crouched down and glanced in the front window. The tea box on the mantel was open. A man, about his height, was picking through the books on the side table in the living room. Callen edged around the corner of his house, thankful he'd left his outside lights off before he headed out to laser tag. Without the lights on inside his home, Callen couldn't see if any weapons were in the man's hands or on him. He slinked around the next corner of his house. A second man perused the items on his bedroom floor. Damn it, two of them, not good odds. Guess I better wait for Sam, because getting beat up or stabbed or shot right now meant he would have to succumb to Kensi and Deeks's comeuppance. Everything was overturned, the contents spilled over the hardwood floor. Callen needed a real bed, he decided after seeing the room's disarray, something which wouldn't have occurred with a heavy bed frame and a king size mattress.

With a rustle in the bushes behind him, Callen swung around and pointed his weapon in the direction of the noise. He hunkered down, staying under the cover of his home's roof and out of the glare of neighbor's porch lights. Nothing. Another sound coming from his left, Callen swung around again, weapon pointed and ready. Damn, the Santa Ana winds. This was beginning to remind him of laser tag. He edged around the next corner of his house and nearly ran head on into his partner.

They both put their fingers to their lips and smiled at one another. Sam made hand signals for his partner to follow him. They slipped inside through the open side door into Callen's home, their Glock 17s drawn and flashlights in their hands. Again Sam signaled for his partner to follow him into the kitchen. Next, they headed into the living room. Sam used signals to tell his partner to turn on the light switch on three.

Callen flipped the light switch. "Federal agents, put down your weapons." No weapons. This didn't make sense at all. Now he was confused.

Sam scrambled down the hallway into the bedroom, gun drawn. He brought a man out into the living room. "Against the wall." Sam shoved the suspect against it, checked his body for weapons, and handcuffed him. "Turn around." When the man didn't move, Sam grabbed his handcuffed arms and flipped him around to face the room.

Callen had the man in the living room cuffed and laying on the hardwood floor. "Okay, which one of you wants to talk?" he asked.

"Мы не говорим к вам," The man in Sam's custody said.

"Smart ass, in English," Sam said, cuffing him on the side of the head with the butt of his gun.

The man winced and spoke again. "Мы не говорим к вам."

"'We're not talking to you,'" Callen said, translating for Sam. "Поговорите английский язык или я убью вас." He pointed his Glock 17 at the man's head. "I told him if he didn't speak English, I'd kill him."

"Russian, huh?"

"Yeah."

"Дипломатический иммунитет."

"He says they have diplomatic immunity."

Sam frisked his suspect's pockets and found the man's ID. He flipped it open for his partner to see. "Boat house?"

"Put the smart ass in your trunk, Sam."

"Sounds like a great plan."

Sam and Callen loaded their two suspects into the Challenger. After placing one man in the trunk and the other man on the back seat, Sam cold conked the second man. "I hate diplomatic immunity." He winked at his partner.

"Hope he doesn't tell his mommy," Callen said, climbing into the passenger side of the Challenger. He laughed.

"Me too," Sam said, driving toward the boat house.

"I hate diplomatic immunity too." He opened the glove box and pulled out a chocolate Tootsie Pop, leaned against the door frame and unwrapped his favorite candy treat. Callen hoped it wouldn't be a long night. He was tired after their laser tag outing.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Sam and Callen examined the contents of the pockets of their two suspects.

"What were two members of the Russian Federation Security Ministry doing in my house?"

The initials MBRF in large, capital letters were written across both passports. Diplomatic immunity stamped below each of their suspect's names. Dmitry Chorkina. Nikolai Motova. Both men were about the same build, near six feet tall and muscular, with a lanky build similar to Callen's. Dmitry had blond hair and the other almost black hair.

Callen threw the passports on the table.

"Would help if they talked," Sam said.

"Yeah, and preferably in English."

"At least, you can understand them."

"Yeah, but all they're saying is, Дипломатический иммунитет."

"Now, I understand at least two words in Russian," Sam said, snickering. "Diplomatic immunity."

"It's a start." The corners of Callen's mouth turned upward.

"Wake Hetty?"

"At one AM, are you serious?" he asked. "She'll rip us a new one."

"The other option is to sic Deeks on them and send them over to LAPD."

"I guess I opt for Hetty, even if she gets an ornery attitude when someone calls her at odd hours in the morning, not to mention on weekends." He pulled out his cell phone and autodialed his supervisor's phone number. Callen switched it to speakerphone, not wanting to be the only one incurring her wrath.

"Mr. Callen?"

She sounded more ornery than usual.

"After returning from laser tag, I discovered two men inside my home."

"And?"

"They're from Russia, both Ministerstvo Bezopasnosti Rossiskoy Federatsi [MBRF] and with diplomatic immunity."

"Have you contacted the Russian embassy?"

"No, 'Дипломатический иммунитет,' is all they're saying at this point."

"They're not asking you to contact the embassy?"

"No."

"I assume you're at the boat house, I'm on my way there," Hetty said. "I want the whole team alerted. Get Mr. Beale and Ms. Jones on intel gathering. I want to know who these men are and why they were in your home."

"Yes, Hetty."

"And Mr. Callen, I understand your team lost again."

Sam watched his partner turn a shade of red.

"Keep out of trouble, I heard your comeuppance isn't pleasant." Hetty disconnected.

"Does she know _everything_?"

"Apparently so, G," he said, "you look simply stunning in that color."

Callen scowled at him and threw one of the passports in his partner's direction.

"At least, you were smart enough to not play the super hero and go into your home alone."

"And risk getting shot or stabbed, and having to be recorded by video and audio?" Callen asked. "Not a chance!"

"What do you think about upping the game?"

"Anything to make them talk."

They both entered the first interrogation room, pulled up their chairs close to Dmitry Chorkina, and placed their weapons on the table.

"I think you understand and speak English," Callen said, tapping the butt of his Glock 17. "This is the last time I'm gonna ask you why you were in my house. After this, things get nasty, real nasty around here."

"Дипломатический иммунитет."

"Is that really how you want to play this?" He stood, grabbed his gun and leaned over the table, pointing the weapon at the man's forehead. "One more time. Why were you in my house?"

"Orders," Dmitry said with a thick accent. He trembled and his voice cracked. Sweat formed a sheen on his face and neck.

"He's lying." Sam stood and lifted his weapon off the table. "Sweating is a clear sign of lying." He came up behind the man, cocked the hammer on his Glock 17 and aimed it at the man's temple. "I wonder which hurts the worst, a shot in the temple or one between the eyes?"

"I wonder which one kills faster?" Callen asked.

"I wonder which one makes the victim suffer longer before they die?" Sam asked.

"Okay, man… okay."

"Well?" Callen asked.

"Not completely true, I ordered the search on your house."

"You?" Sam asked.

"I… did it for an old friend."

"Who, damn it, talk faster?" Callen cocked the hammer on his weapon too.

"Can you just, um, put them down, and… I'll talk, please."

Sam and Callen backed off and sat down.

"A friend of a friend."

Callen tapped his weapon again.

"He knows your friend, Arkady Kolcheck."

Callen shot out of his chair, slamming it against the wall. He rushed out of the room, holstered his gun, and called his friend on his cell phone.

Sam grabbed the cell phone from his partner and shut it off. "Wait, we don't know what's going on here."

"I'm not waiting."

"You need to wait until we find out more information."

"I want to—"

"Want to what, Mr. Callen?"

"Hetty." He faced her, gritting his teeth.

"What did you find out?" Hetty stood inches from her agent, hands on her hips.

"Arkady Kolcheck is behind this and I want to contact him." Callen crossed his arms.

"What do you know beyond that?"

"He knows nothing."

She eyed her agent. "And why is that, Mr. Callen?"

"He stormed out of the room before the suspect could be questioned further."

"I can assume then, one of your suspects is now speaking English."

"Only after we used other methods to help loosen his tongue."

"Whatever it takes, Mr. Callen." She eyed him again.

He knew what that meant, get back into the interrogation room and get more answers. He reentered the room followed by Sam.

"Let's begin where we left off."

"That's all I know."

"Not an acceptable answer, Mr. Chorkina, talk or we shall use more brutal methods to get answers."

"He told me to find something of his in your house." He trembled again.

"There's nothing of his in _my_ house!" Callen gritted his teeth. This suspect annoyed him. He didn't know how much more crap he could take from him. "Stop your evasive answers and tell me the truth."

"That's what he told me."

"What is it?" Sam asked.

"He said we'd know when we found it."

"This is pure unadulterated—" Callen shot off his chair again and came behind Dmitry. "You want to play it like this?"

"I'm not playing you," he said. "I'm telling you what Arkady told me."

"Call him." Callen tossed the man his cell phone. "Now!"

"He doesn't like being disturbed—"

"I don't like being disturbed either, and yet I found you in _my_ house."

Dmitry Chorkina picked up Callen's cell phone with his handcuffed hands and dialed his friend's number. "What should I—"

"Put it on speaker phone and talk to him." Callen drew his gun and shoved it in the man's side. "Now!"

"Hello."

"Hello," Arkady said.

"Дипломатический иммунитет."

"Cute, into that again?" He asked, pressing the barrel of his gun hard into the man's ribs.

Dmitry winced. "I've got a problem," he said.

"What kind of problem?"

"I've been arrested by the man who own's the house."

"Perfect, let me speak to him."

Callen grabbed the phone out of Dmitry's hands. "Arkady."

"Мой старый друг, Г."

"I'll cease to be your old friend, if you send any more of _your_ Russian friends to my house."

"Alina told me about something which you hid in her house years ago."

"I hid nothing in the house."

"When you lived there with her and her family."

"That's a load of—"

"She said you'd remember where it is."

"There's nothing hidden in my house, and if there was I wouldn't be offering it up to you," Callen said. "Keep your Russian spies out of _my_ house and out of _my_ life." He gritted his teeth again and started to hang up.

"She said it was something from your childhood, before you were in the foster care system."

Callen's jaw dropped. He shut off his cell phone, holstered his weapon, and exited the interrogation room.


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanks for the reading my story and for the reviews. I love, love, love reviews.**

**This chapter updated on January 6, 2012 for accuracy about music likes and dislikes.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 5<strong>

Callen gathered his jacket and ID and headed for the parking lot.

"Mr. Hanna, please see to it that Mr. Callen is not left alone in his house, until we discover the full ramifications of Mr. Kolcheck's disclosure."

Sam grabbed his jacket and ran after his partner. "G!"

"Just take me home," he said with a somber tone.

"What's with you all of the sudden?"

"I'm not talking about this right now."

"Hetty doesn't want you out of my sight, until we know for certain something else isn't going on with Arkady."

"Great," he said, "I'm tired and now you want to babysit me?"

"Her orders, not my choice." He unlocked the doors to his car.

Callen slumped down in the passenger seat, lines creasing his forehead.

"What's going on, man?" Sam climbed into the driver's seat and started the engine.

"Nothing."

"That's not your nothing face."

"I can't talk about this."

"What kind of answer is that?"

"Sam, stop it." He closed his eyes and reclined the seat. "I'm tired."

"Yeah."

"Okay, what's that supposed to mean?"

"You're full of crap," Sam said. "Even when you're tired you don't lose your sense of humor."

"I'm tired and I need sleep."

"And?"

"I'm trying to remember where I put it."

"Put what?"

"The item which Arkady is talking about."

"So there _is_ something you hid in your house?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, years ago when I lived there, just as he said." Callen rolled over to his right side, facing the door. "Wish I had a blanket."

"For what?"

"To stuff in your mouth so I can get some rest."

"Is that any way to talk to your partner?" Sam sniggered.

"Yeah, when he's bugging me and I need my beauty rest."

"You're in a foul mood."

"Sam, just lay off me for a while."

"No, not until you tell me why you're avoiding me."

Callen rolled over onto his left side, facing his partner, and opened his eyes.

Sam saw the reason for his partner's evasiveness, eyes wet with tears. "You need to tell Hetty what's going on."

"I don't want her to know, heck, I didn't want you to know either," Callen said. "But you're forcing the issue as always, and not letting me get away with it."

"Someone needs to confront you," Sam said, "if not Hetty, than me."

Callen sighed.

"You gonna tell me?"

"When we get to my house I'll do better than tell you, I'll show you."

"Now, I'm intrigued."

"Good, let me get some rest before we get there." Callen closed his eyes again, rolling back onto his right side.

"Always mysterious, G."

"Not always."

"Yeah, always," Sam said, his voice quieter. He turned on the radio to G's least favorite station.

Callen shot straight up in his seat. "Damn it, always pushing me."

"Got you good!"

"You know I hate that station."

"Yep, I do, that's why I turned it on."

"Sam, you really know how to irk me."

"Yeah, I've practiced for several years."

Callen sighed and laid back in his seat again. "Turn the darned thing off before I rip the radio out of the dash and throw it out the window."

"Jazz not soothing to your soul?"

"Neither are you, Sam." He crossed his arms. "Reminds of that new aged, fandango music."

"I find it quite soothing myself."

"What, the jazz or the new age music?"

"Yeah, I love jazz improvisation and I love using it to bug you and by your reaction it still works," Sam said. "Tell you what, I'll stop for donuts, if you reveal something about the item at your house."

"You can't wait the few more minutes it takes to get to my house?"

"No." Sam pulled into the Winchell's Donut shop on Vine Street in Hollywood and up to the take out window. "What do you want?"

"What?" Callen sat up in his seat.

"Peace offering."

"You're gonna make me gain weight."

"Ah, but you love them."

"Raised ring with chocolate icing and rainbow sprinkles."

"And a coffee?"

"Yeah, sounds good, now I'll be up all night eating donut holes and drinking coffee."

"And showing me what you have hidden in your house." Sam winked at him. He ordered donuts for both of them, plus a dozen donut holes and two decaf coffees. Sam pulled over into a parking space and stopped.

Callen put his seat upright, grabbed a coffee and his favorite donut.

"Show tunes?"

"You hate them, Sam."

"You play them to bug me."

"I like them and I get a good reaction from you when I play them." Callen said. "They work great when you're pouting."

"Whatever." Sam took a bite of his old fashioned plain donut.

"You don't like anything on it?" Callen eyed the donut in his partner's hand and took a sip of coffee. "Decaf?"

"Nope, I wanted something without the sweetness," he said. "I didn't want to keep you awake all night. You need your beauty sleep."

"I ought to punch your lights out."

"I thought you loved me." Sam faked a pout.

"Every now and then, I suppose I love you." He took a bite of his donut. "Great choice as always. I guess I owe you a clue."

"At least one."

"It's a metal box of stuff I carried with me from foster home to foster home."

"And?"

"I can't remember what's in it and I don't remember where I hid it," he said. "I know I left it there, because it was the first place I felt at home." It was first time Callen talked about feeling at home some place. Now, he lived in the house where he first felt as if home was a place where people cared about each other. He never remembered feeling that in his other foster homes.

"This box is similar to the tea box you have now?"

"As a matter fact, yes, never thought about that until you said that just now."

"When we get to your house, I'll help you find it."

"You like needle in a haystack mysteries?"

"You've got no idea?"

"None."

Sam finished his donut and drove toward G's house.

"What kind of donut holes?"

"With chocolate sprinkles."

Callen opened the box and grabbed a couple. "My favorite, thanks." He leaned against the door frame and finished his coffee. "I was 14 when I lived with Alina."

"Yeah?"

"I wonder how a five year old kid could remember that box."

"Maybe because you took it out and looked at it often."

"I did."

"Did she ever see what was in it?"

"I don't think so, but I'm not certain."

"Anybody else view the contents of that box?"

"You mean like Arkady?"

"Yeah?"

"He was in Russia."

"Are you sure?"

"No, I never met him until Operation Cossack." Callen finished the three donut holes. "Remember, I was 14 at the time and that would make Arkady 30 years old."

"Maybe a job for Eric, check his history and his family's history and where they lived." Sam pulled up into G's driveway and stopped. "Hetty's not going to give that information out freely though."

"Yeah, she redacted Arkady's file before."

"And she'll do it again to protect him."

"Makes me wonder if they're bedfellows."

"Maybe Arkady's not after the box."

"He does have a tendency to play games in that way."

"Yeah, he played you once before and almost got you killed."

"He owes me, so I doubt he'd play a game with me now." Callen grabbed the donut holes box and their empty coffee cups and strode toward his front door. A bullet whizzed by his head. He dropped the box and empty cups, grabbed his Glock 17, and hid in the bushes near his front door. "Sam!"

"Okay!" Sam said, peeking out from the corner of the house, several feet from his partner. "Drive-by." He edged over to G, keeping cover behind the bush where his partner was.

"A drive-by shooting in this neighborhood?"

Both agents scanned the yard and road, making sure it was safe before venturing out into the open again.

What Callen thought was sweat trickled down the left side of his face. He wiped it away with the back of his left hand. Sam grabbed the donut holes box off the walkway and followed G. Callen removed the key from his pants pocket and opened his front door, weapon drawn. He flipped on the light and scanned the living room.

Sam came up beside him. "G, you're bleeding."

"It's sweat."

"You call this sweat?" Sam brushed his hand across his partner's left cheek and showed it to him.

"I didn't realize I was hit," Callen said. "It's nothing."

"Constitutes an injury."

"No."

"Yes, sit in the chair and let me clean it up."

"I don't need your help." Callen walked into the bathroom, gazed in the mirror, and examined the left side of his forehead.

Sam came into the bathroom and stood behind his partner.

"It's a graze, not a bullet hole," he said, grabbing a washcloth from his linen closet and wetting it. He dabbed the spot where the bullet had hit and winced.

"Let me see it," Sam said.

"I don't need a nursemaid." Callen applied pressure to his forehead.

"A what?"

"A nursemaid."

"Do you even know what a nursemaid is?"

"Someone who's being overprotective." Callen shot him a dirty look in the mirror.

"You need a nursemaid, then," Sam said, grinning, "look at me and let me see the wound."

He faced his partner and sighed.

"This is more than a graze, G."

He sighed again, this time making a clicking sound with his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

"Is that your disgusted-with-me sigh?" He asked. "Give me the washcloth." He took it from his partner's hand. "You need more than a nursemaid."

"I hope you're not recording this."

"I am, part of the rules of engagement for any injury you sustain this week."

"Sam!"

"What?"

"Couldn't you just drop it for this flesh wound?"

"No, and this is no flesh wound." He rinsed the washcloth in cold water and washed the left side of his partner's face, from forehead to neck. "It's still bleeding. What do you want to do?"

"I'm _not_ going to a hospital."

"A 24 hour clinic then?"

"Acceptable," Callen said, "you holding my hand in the waiting room?" He snickered.

"I'll do anything you want."

"Anything?"

"Within limits."

"So now you're saying you won't lift me into your arms and take me into the clinic?"

"If you want I can do that." Sam grinned.

"I'll pass."

"Shall we?"

Callen followed Sam into the living room. "Can it wait a few minutes?"

"Why?"

"I think I remember where the box is." Callen grabbed the wet washcloth from Sam, and pressed it to his forehead. Maybe it was more than a graze. His head was starting to pound. He entered his bedroom where he had carved his name in the closet door. After opening the door, he pulled everything off the closet floor and tossed it out the door. Wasn't much in the closet: His work boots, and Christmas wrapping and boxes which remained from when Alina had lived in the house. Callen walked into the closet and tapped his feet on the floor, listening for a difference in sound. Nothing. Damn.

"Looking for a hollow spot?"

"Yeah, I could've sworn…" He dabbed his forehead with the washcloth, it turned bright red.

"Look at me, G." He took the washcloth from him and examined his partner's forehead again. "You need medical attention ASAP."

"Sam, I know it's in here." He faced into the closet again and glanced upward above the closet shelf to his right. "Get me something to stand on."

"No, let me do this, G." He pushed his partner out of the closet. "You really need to be sitting before you fall down."

"Huh?"

"You look peaked."

"I feel fine."

"Yeah, you wouldn't tell me if you were dying," Sam said, the corners of his mouth turning upward.

"Just find it, I promised I'd go to the clinic."

"Before or after you pass out?" He asked.

"Not nice." Callen shot him another dirty look.

Sam shoved several Christmas theme, decorated boxes aside. He knocked on the wall above the shelf, trying to find a hollow spot. "Nothing, G, another dead-end."

Callen glanced up at the ceiling. "I know where it is."

"And we're _not_ going there."

"Damn it, Sam, I remember."

"That's what you said about this spot."

"I'm certain about this other place."

"100 percent certain?"

"99 percent or so."

"Or less?"

"Sam, please just this one more place." Callen removed his gun again and grabbed a flashlight off the mantel in the living room.

"Your last chance, then I'll handcuff you if I have to, throw you into the front seat of the Challenger, and drive you to the nearest 24 hour clinic."

"You'd better not."

"If you resist me I will." He winked at him.

"Sounds too kinky for me." Callen gave him a wry smile. He exited his house out the back door and strode toward the garage.

"I'm sure there's nothing out here," Sam said. "Do you even use the garage?"

"I haven't been inside it, since I bought the house." He used his key to open the side door, edged into the dark space with his gun drawn and flashlight shining. Callen plodded toward the back of the garage and eyed the ceiling. There it was, what he thought had been in the house. A latch in the ceiling.

"And?"

He grabbed a couple of sturdy boxes and stacked them.

"Wait a minute," Sam said, "you're injured. Let me handle this."

"_My_ box."

"Possessive."

"Very." Callen stepped onto the boxes, holstered his gun, and placed the flashlight in his mouth. He tugged on the ceiling latch with both hands. Nothing happened. "I think it's stuck." He pulled harder and the door wouldn't budge.

"Let me try."

Callen stepped down and motioned with hands for his partner to try. "Be my guest."

"Smart-aleck." Sam stepped onto the boxes and gave one hard tug on the ceiling latch. It released, the door almost hitting Sam in the head before he leaped off the boxes.

"A staircase."

"Glad you know what it is, thought maybe you had a concussion." He snickered.

"Very funny, Sam." He moved the boxes away from the stairs and grabbed both railings on the disappearing stairway.

"Wait a minute."

"What now?" Callen sighed.

"Let me go first."

"No."

"Either let me go first or we leave right now."

"You drive a hard bargain."

Sam climbed the stairs, weapon drawn and flashlight leading the way.

"See anything?"

"Cobwebs."

"That means spiders."

"Have a problem with spiders, G?"

"Big spiders."

"Never knew," he said, "not much up here."

"Don't get any bright ideas for my next comeuppance."

"Tempting."

"You do that to me and I have the perfect come back for you."

"I'll bet you do," Sam said. "I think your brain works overtime thinking of embarrassing situations to place others in."

"Not so, I'm just feeling defensive over my current comeuppance."

Callen followed his partner up the stairs, halfway dizziness overcame him and he stopped, bending over. Blood from his head wound dripped on the stairs. His head pounded and nausea swept over him.

"You coming up here?"

He pushed away the pain and swallowed down the nausea. Callen redoubled his efforts and climbed the stairs to the attic.

"You look like hell, G."

"Thanks, I feel like crap."

"If you expect me to carry you down those stairs, you can forget it." Sam snickered.

"You said you would do anything." Callen winked at him and laughed, imagining his partner descending the stairs with him on his back.

"Anything within reason and within my limits."

"Too heavy for you?"

"Goading me, G?" Sam asked. "Yeah, you might be too heavy after eating all those donut holes."

Callen ignored his partner's question and comment and surveyed the attic, trying to remember the vision which had come to him in the bedroom. It was a quick flash of a memory. A window toward the back of the attic looked familiar. He started for it and tripped on something. Callen glanced down at his feet. A latch. He crouched down and lifted it. The hollow space in the attic floor contained a large, silver metal box about the size of a large laptop computer, and at least four inches thick. Callen lifted it out and sat down cross-legged on the floor with the box on his lap. Tears wet his eyes.

Sam joined his partner on the floor and studied his face. "You okay?"

"Don't know." He wiped away the tears and the blood still spilling down on his left cheek. Callen opened the box, his jaw dropped. A picture of a man holding a young girl's hand with a woman cradling a baby in her arms lay on top, with several pictures underneath it. "Моја породица. Чедо моје мило породице."

* * *

><p><strong>Review please, pretty please. Thanks.<strong>


	6. Chapter 6

**Thank you for reading and posting reviews. :)**

**Chapter 6**

Sam stared at his partner. "G?"

Callen studied the photograph for several more minutes. "Let's go."

"What?"

Callen closed the box and stood up.

"What did you just say?"

"Huh?" Callen glanced at his partner sideways.

"You said something when you were looking at that picture."

"Oh, that… don't know. It just spilled out of my mouth." He started to descend the stairs, facing the ladder, trying to balance the box with one hand. Dizziness overcame him again. The box started slipping from his hand.

"Give me the box and I'll hand it to you when get closer to the ground." Sam held the box and handed it his partner. Callen grabbed it and steadied himself with the railings on the disappearing stairway. Once on the ground, he staggered before gaining his balance. Sam slid down the stairs and joined G on the ground. "You're lucky that isn't one of Hetty's shirts or she'd rip you a new one."

Callen glanced down at his favorite, long sleeve, blue T-shirt. "Yeah, more like she'd go in for the kill." Blood had dripped down the left side of his shirt, soaking it and creating a reddish purple stain which spanned his shoulder, chest and left upper arm.

"Your face doesn't look much better," Sam said. A combination of dried and oozing blood painted the left side of his partner's face from forehead to below his ear. "Wish I had that wet washcloth right now."

"Glad you don't." He cracked a wry smile. "I don't need a nursemaid."

"More like you need a mother."

"We having that discussion again?"

"I don't think we finished it."

"I did."

With shots fired outside the garage, both agents crouched low to the ground, their weapons drawn.

"Now what?" Callen said, inching toward the open garage door. He peeked around the corner, weapon drawn and ready. "Don't understand why someone would want this box besides me."

"It identifies someone?"

"A possibility." Callen stepped into the darkened walkway surrounding the garage, holding the silver box under one arm.

Sam followed his partner until they reached the end of the garage and stared at the open area between the house and the garage. "I'll cover you. On three. One, two…" Another shot rang out, the bullet whizzing by Sam's torso.

Callen screamed, the box slipping from his grasp. He shuddered, clutched his chest with his right arm. Callen screamed again, grabbing his left upper arm and falling to the ground on his right side.

Sam hunkered low to the ground, crawled over to his partner's side, and performed a quick assessment on G's body with his flashlight. Out cold. "Damn." Another bullet whizzed by, this time close to his head. He fired off one round in the direction which the bullet came from. "Federal agents!" He dragged G's body back to the cover of the garage and pulled him just inside the door. Sam autodialed Hetty on his cell phone. "I've got shots fired and Callen's been shot at least twice. Need paramedics and back up ASAP." Sam scrambled back to where G was hit, grabbed the box, and rushed back inside the garage with it.

"G?" All he heard was gurgling which alternated with wheezing and whistling sounds as his partner breathed. At least, he was breathing. With the flashlight in his mouth, he performed a closer examination of his partner's body. "Not Good." He closed and barricaded the garage door with several boxes. After securing the door, Sam scanned the garage, he needed something to use for a sucking chest wound. He discovered an old first aid kit, at least twenty years old he estimated, and opened it. Sam pulled out a tube of petroleum jelly and grabbed a plastic bag he found on a workbench. He worked fast wrapping the plastic bag over the left side of his partner's chest using the petroleum jelly as a sealer. Sam finished his makeshift covering with adhesive on three sides. He sat back on his heels and sighed and took out his cell phone again. "Any progress?" Sam said. "I've got a serious situation here with Callen."

"Eric, Hetty's sent back up and containment and paramedics are in route."

"Thanks, Eric, I'm barricaded in the garage," he said, lowering his voice. "I've got company. Need to go." Sam hung up and listened at the door. He removed the barricade. With his gun drawn, he opened the door to the paramedics. Kensi and Deeks entered the garage too.

When she saw Callen lying on the garage floor, Kensi's jaw dropped . "Everything's under control, containment's arrested two gunmen, and a forensic team was dispatched," she said. "We couldn't get to you guys until the gunmen were subdued. What's happening with Callen?"

"He got hit twice, once in the head and once in the chest, that's as far as I know," Sam said. "I performed a temporary stop gap on his sucking chest wound."

"Yes, you saved his life," one of the paramedics said. They placed Callen on a backboard before they loaded him onto the gurney. The other paramedic called for a medflight to UCLA Medical Center. "Let's go."

"He's not conscious?" Deeks asked.

"He was after the first gunshot wound to the head."

"What?"

"After we first arrived at his house, Callen got shot."

"That's ridiculous," Kensi said.

"As he put it, it was just a graze," Sam said. "It wasn't though, kept bleeding."

"What's that?" Kensi asked, pointing to the box under Sam's arm.

"It's what has caused all the commotion around here," he said. "If you're the one holding it, your a target."

"With that box?"

"Yeah," Sam said, "I need to head to the hospital, you following?"

"Hetty told us to stay with containment for now," Deeks said. "Show us where Callen was shot the first time."

Sam crossed the yard, entered the house, and exited the front door. "Right here on the front walk," he said. "It was a drive-by shooting."

"A drive-by? Here?" Kensi asked, her jaw dropping again.

"Yeah, Callen was shocked as well."

"Ah hello, donut hole marks the spot," Kensi said, crouching down and examining the ground where she found a donut hole. "Flavor?"

"Callen's favorite," he said, "need to go. See you two later at the hospital."

"What?" Deeks asked. "You're leaving us with the mystery of Callen's favorite flavor of donut holes."

"With chocolate sprinkles," he said, his left eyebrow lifting upward.

"His favorite donut?"

"You plan on bringing him some donuts in the hospital?" Sam asked. "He'd love it if you did. One his favorite is a raised ring with chocolate icing and rainbow sprinkles."

"Rainbow sprinkles? Sweet," Deeks said. "I should probably wait until he feels better."

"How about waiting until he's at least conscious?" Kensi asked, examining the area around the front porch. She snickered.

"That would help too," Sam said, laughing.

"Okay, not funny."

"Yeah, funny trying to feed donuts to an unconscious person, come on Deeks," Kensi said. "You blush nice."

"Don't rub it in."

"You know, when it's your turn for the comeuppance, I think it has to be something to make you blush."

"Kensi!"

"Yes?" By the front door, she bent down and picked up a bullet slug. "I think I found Callen's first bullet. A small amount of blood on it."

"You two are beginning to sound as if you're married," Sam said.

She shot him a look.

"That's a compliment, you know." Sam winked at her. "Anything else you need answered?"

"Callen was shot near the garage the second time?"

"Yeah." He trudged to his car.

"And the box?"

"You'll find out about the box after I talk to Callen again."

"Secretive."

"I have my reasons."

"A clue, at least one clue," Kensi said, approaching Sam as he climbed into his Challenger.

"Not even one clue." He set the silver metal box on the seat next to him.

"Must be—"

"Need to go, I'll tell you more when you come to the hospital." He backed down the driveway and drove toward headquarters. Sam needed to unload the box into a safe place, before he drove to the hospital.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Sam paced the hallway outside G's intensive care unit [ICU], waiting for him to wake up. He was no longer able to sit and wait. Nine hours of surgery. First, it was waiting in the emergency department for news about his partner's condition. And then, the worst, waiting to see if G would pull through the surgery. He knew more than when he arrived 12 hours ago. The bullet did more than graze G's forehead. Kensi found proof of that at the scene, skin and bone fragments. His partner suffered a concussion with substantial blood loss, but without much brain swelling. A hemothorax which required a chest tube and surgery due to the severity of symptoms. Sam pushed the thoughts out of his mind. Too close again to losing his partner. A third bullet broke G's upper left arm. Wires everywhere to monitor all of his partner's vitals. If there was a tube, it came out of G's body. A chest tube. When his partner discovered the urinary catheter, he would have a conniption fit. He always did. Sam smirked. Two intravenous lines, one blood and one fluids and antibiotics. And one which G would go bonkers over, an endotracheal tube [ETT] down his throat and hooked up to an automatic ventilator. The last time he had one, his partner had to be heavily sedated.

He stopped pacing for a few minutes and stared out the window at the end of the hallway.

"Mr. Hanna, I think you need to get some rest."

"I'm not leaving my partner until he's conscious, and I know he's going to make it."

"I'll call you."

"No."

"That is an order, Mr. Hanna, not a suggestion," Hetty said. "You have been up for over twenty-four hours."

"I want to stay here." He crossed his arms. "I'm not leaving, I need to stay here."

"Fine, but you need to rest instead of pace the hallway." Hetty left the ICU.

Sam ambled back into G's ICU cubicle and settled down on the window seat. Every time he started to doze off, a sound in the room startled him and he awakened. He shot off the seat and checked his partner. Nothing. Four hours post op and G hadn't made a sound. Not a good sign. Sam sat again, closed his eyes, and drifted off to sleep.

He shot off the seat again, for sure this time he heard it. Sam leaned over his partner's bed, his ear close to his mouth. There it was again. G was trying to say his name. Sam grasped his partner's right hand. "I'm here, G." Of course, he couldn't speak because of the ETT.

Callen squeezed his partner's hand.

Tears formed in Sam's eyes. Good, his partner was going to make it. This was the turning point in G's recovery.

He pointed to the endotracheal tube in his mouth and pleaded with his eyes.

"As soon as you're breathing well enough on your own."

Callen released his partner's hand and grabbed the tube.

Sam pried his hand off it and pressed the nurse's call button. "No, G, not until the doctor orders it to be removed." He saw the panic in his partner's eyes. Sam knew this would happen. G hated endotracheal tubes and struggled with them until the doctors ended up sedating him. He suspected this would be another one of those rounds, endotracheal tube vs doctors, if the doctors decided to keep G intubated.

"Good, he's awakened," a nurse said.

"In this case, bad because he wants to remove the endotracheal tube himself," Sam said to her.

"I'll call the doctor and see if he wants to keep it in."

After she left, he released his partner's hand, hoping G would keep his hands away from his face.

Fifteen minutes later, a pulmonary technician entered the room and checked his patient's oxygenation level. "I have some good news for you, Mr. Callen, time to remove the endotracheal tube," he said. "I have a new technique." The technician suctioned his patient, slightly deflated the tube's cuff, and pulled out the ETT. "How was that?"

"Felt like when I do it myself," Callen said, surprised he could talk.

"The only difference is I deflated the cuff some before removing the ETT, otherwise it is the same as if you removed it yourself."

"Thank you."

The technician placed a nasal cannula on his patient and gave him oxygen. "This is still necessary due to your surgery and the injury to your chest."

"Injury? Sam?"

"I'll explain it to him," Sam said, watching the technician leave the room.

"What happened?"

"You don't remember anything?"

"I remember walking toward the house with the box under my arm and the next minute I was screaming."

"Ah, you do remember screaming?"

"Embarrassing, yes, it really hurt, Sam."

"I'll bet it did," he said. "Your upper left arm is broken."

"Bullet?"

"Bullet number three or four, not certain yet. A clean through." Sam sighed. "Kensi has all your bullets, four total."

"Four?" Callen sighed and winced.

"You need to do more of that deep breathing you just did."

"Why?"

"A chest tube."

"I got shot in my lung?"

"Yeah, G," he said, "a hemothorax."

"What?" Callen's jaw dropped.

"Serious stuff," Sam said. "Saved your sorry ass too with some unconventional treatment."

"How unconventional?"

"Plastic bag and petroleum jelly."

"I know of the emergency treatment," Callen said. "Learned it in the military."

"And a concussion without brain swelling," Sam said. "Kensi found evidence at your house that it was more than a graze."

"Yeah, I figured as much."

"When?"

"I almost passed out on the disappearing stairway."

"What?" Damn, he knew better not to believe G when he said he was just feeling like crap. It was usually much worse than his partner claimed it to be. G was an expert at subterfuge, hiding his pain, both emotional and physical, which resulted in another one of G's stellar performances in the art of deception. His ability to deceive others made his partner good at his job as an undercover ops agent. Sam wished G would keep the deception for the job only. Slim chance that would happen.

"Sorry, Sam, just as you said, I was being mysterious," Callen said. "Too mysterious for my own good. That's when a pounding headache and nausea began."

"Next time, I hope there isn't one, but if there is, I'm handcuffing you and throwing you in the back seat of my Challenger."

"I hope you gently toss me into the back seat," he said. "I'm fragile."

"Very fragile." Sam winked at him.

"Did you record me?"

"When did I have time?" Sam asked. "Between dodging bullets and dragging your sorry ass out of harm's way, I didn't get much time to think about recording your screams and moans and groans."

"Okay, I lost it," he said. "Probably was a good recording for Kens and Deeks to hear. So I guess you can rub it in." He sighed again and winced. "Damn that hurts." He pressed the pain pump button on the bed control. "Thanks for saving my sorry ass a second time." He snickered.

"You're welcome," he said. "Glad to see you taking care of that, G." Sam eyed the medicine going into his partner's veins.

"Yeah." He yawned. "The box?"

"At NCIS headquarters in my locker for now," he said. "Do you remember what you said when you opened the box?"

"Still can't remember, sorry."

"I think it was Serbian."

"Do you speak Serbian, Sam?"

"No, but it sounded familiar to what I heard when I was in Serbia once."

"When they buried you alive with your buddy?"

"Yeah," Sam said. "I'll bring the box to the hospital and maybe looking at that picture again will jar your memory."

"Be careful," Callen said. "Somebody out there is willing to kill for it."

"Who was the gunman who shot me?"

"Serbian Military Agency," he said, "and try gunmen."

"What?"

"That was exactly my response, G," he said. "What's in that box?"

"Or better yet, what do people believe is in that box?" Callen asked. "Did Hetty see the box?" He eyed a spot over his partner's left shoulder and glanced back at Sam's face.

"Not yet," he said, "I think we need to keep this—" The sudden change on his partner's face and his nonverbal communication, told Sam that Hetty was standing close by or right behind him. He swallowed hard.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Sam sighed. He knew what was coming and he didn't look forward to it, one damn bit. He decided to keep his mouth shut until Hetty confronted them. His hope was she'd wait until he walked out the ICU. He could only hope.

"Hetty," Callen said. He knew saying anything more would be fruitless.

She placed her hands on her petite hips. "Looks like you two are hiding something from me."

Neither agent said a word.

"This is not a game, Mr. Sam Hanna."

Callen sucked on his lower lip.

"Mr. Callen?"

"Yes?"

"Look, you two, this isn't some game you play with each other at the laser tag arena," she said. "I need to know what you found at your house, Mr. Callen."

Both agents remained quiet, hoping the matter would blow over.

"I guess it's time to up the ante, Mr. Hanna, I need to speak with you in private."

Sam swallowed hard. For his partner's sake, he needed to keep the contents of the box a secret. G had yet to see the picture a second time. He owed him that much, before Hetty saw any of the contents. Sam followed Hetty into the hallway.

"I take it you found something or else Mr. Callen's life wouldn't have been threatened as it was."

"I'm not at liberty to discuss this."

"Mr. Hanna, you will not withhold information from me."

"Suspend me if you have to, I'm protecting my partner's best interests."

"Is that so?" She clasped her hands behind her back. "Are you certain this _is_ in Mr. Callen's best interest?"

"That has yet to be determined." Sam crossed his arms.

"It's obvious we've hit a dead-end here." Hetty spun around and entered the ICU cubicle. "Mr. Callen."

"Hetty." He'd learned long ago, reading lips was invaluable with anything involving his supervisor, and reading between the lines was essential.

"If you don't stop being coy with me..."

"I don't know what you want me to say."

"You found something at your house, correct?"

Sam stood behind Hetty, eyeing his partner, hoping he would get his meaning.

"No."

"No?"

"I mean yes…" Damn. He sucked on his lower lip.

"Which is it, Mr. Callen?"

"I wasn't able to do anything with it." He kept the conversation as vague as possible.

Hetty half turned to her other agent, standing behind her. "I see that you two are in cahoots with each other."

"If you mean we're collaborating—"

"Mr. Callen, this is not a game."

"I need to see it, before you see it."

"Is that so?"

Damn. "Yes, Hetty." If he could cross his arms right now he would. He wanted to protect himself from her wrath.

"More like the two of you are in collusion with each other."

"No, I just need more time to look at it," he said. "I didn't get a chance before I got shot." Callen hoped she wouldn't catch him in this half-truth. He needed to shut his mouth, before he incriminated himself further. Maybe it would suffice for lies of omission in his book, but not hers. Callen held back a sigh, one of his ticked off and disgusted ones.

"I'll speak with you two tomorrow morning," Hetty said. "By that time, I expect a report and so does Director Vance."

"The director?" Callen asked, his jaw dropping.

"Yes, Mr. Callen, he expects an update on your condition in the morning." She moved to the foot of the bed. "I'll have two reports available for him." Hetty spun around, eyed her other agent and left.

Sam watched her leave, sighed, and crossed the room to his partner's side. "Now what?"

"I need to see that box, ASAP."

"I hope you remember what you said."

"I hope you don't get shot bringing it here."

"That makes two of us."

"Maybe you shouldn't ride alone."

"You serious, G?"

"Very serious, Sam." He sighed.

"Would you be happier if I had Deeks or Kensi with me?"

"Now there's a choice." Callen snickered. "Either one will do, just don't go it alone."

"Kensi was too curious."

"You mean Deeks didn't ask you a zillion questions?"

"Yeah, but not about the box."

"About what?"

"You won't believe it."

"Tell me."

"He wanted to know what kind of donuts you liked."

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah."

"How sweet."

"We didn't think so, because he wanted to bring donuts to an unconscious agent."

"I take it you razzed him?"

"Kensi and I both."

"Poor guy, all he wanted to do was bring me some donuts," Callen said. "Can't fault an agent for trying." He laughed.

"Morning is coming soon, too soon," Sam said. "I'll see you later."

"With some of my favorite donuts?"

"Yeah."

Callen watched his partner leave and pumped another dose of pain medicine through his veins.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Sam entered NCIS headquarters, glanced around the bullpen, and went to his locker. He grabbed the ill-fated box out of his locker and autodialed Deeks's number. "You ready?"

"In your car waiting for you," he said.

Sam exited the building and opened his car door. He froze. The voice on his cell phone had sounded more distant than it should have.

Hetty.

Damn it.

"Nice of you to drive me to the hospital, Mr. Sam Hanna," she said, her tone more curt than Sam had ever heard before.

"I hope you plan to run shotgun for me."

"I do, and I even brought the donuts for Mr. Callen."

Damn. He opened his trunk and placed the box in it, and climbed into the Challenger. "What do you want, Hetty?"

"You know damn well what I want, Mr. Sam Hanna."

He swallowed hard, turned the key in the ignition, and backed down the driveway. "I can't give it to you."

"And why not?"

"I told you," Sam said, "and you're placing me in a precarious position with Callen."

"Describe precarious, Mr. Hanna."

He stopped the car before heading into traffic. "He needs to see the contents of the box, before I show it to you."

"I have my suspicions that you've left something out of this conversation."

Maybe she _could_ read minds. Maybe it was simply woman's intuition. Or maybe it was a combination of woman's intuition and reading a person's body language. "All right, Hetty, you win… yes."

"I thought so, Mr. Sam Hanna." She sighed. "I've never seen the two of you more joined at the hip as you have been since you both found the box."

"Still, I won't turn the box over to you or anyone else, until Callen sees it again."

"And the reason?"

"Damn it, Hetty, I'm trying to protect my partner and you're making it difficult."

"Protect him from what?"

"Himself." Sam pulled out into traffic. "I can't tell you any more than that."

"Maybe you would like to be the one to tell Director Vance that Mr. Callen got shot because of a box."

Sam sighed. "Wouldn't be my first choice."

"I thought so, Mr. Sam Hanna."

He hated when his supervisor was formal with him. It meant she was infuriated with him, and Sam didn't like being on her bad side. A bullet whizzed through Hetty's window and out Sam's. "Hetty, duck!" Sam swerved hard left, crossing two lanes of oncoming traffic. He ended up driving on the sidewalk. "Keep your head down." While attempting to keep all four wheels on the ground, he opened the glove box and pulled out his SIG-Sauer P228. He watched Hetty pull a Rohrbaugh R9 from the compact handbag on her lap.

"I'm call for backup," Hetty said.

Sam swerved to his right, cutting across four lanes of traffic, before getting in the right hand turn lane. "Too close." He fishtailed on the right turn, his speed still higher than it was safe to turn a corner. After gaining control of the Challenger, Sam raced down a long city block and made a cleaning run to determine if they had a tail.

"Well?" Hetty asked.

"Nothing so far." Sam sighed. Two days in a row someone had shot at him and his partner. Now, his supervisor had been caught in the crossfire too. He glanced in his rearview and side view mirrors. Damn, someone was following them. "Got a car, three cars back. Dark blue sedan, clean plates. I'm stopping to see what they'll do." Sam pulled over to the right and waited. He watched his mirrors and saw the sedan pull to the curb too. When the traffic cleared he gunned it, foot to the floor, ran the red light, and took a sharp left. He fully expected Hetty to admonish him, but she didn't say a word. Sam heard her sigh, loud. He wanted to laugh at that. He resisted the urge. Sam noticed Hetty grabbed the sissy bar at her right side. "Callen said whomever carried this box with them was a target and could be killed."

"When did he say that, Mr. Hanna?"

"I told him I was bringing it back to the hospital for him to see, and he mentioned that I should be careful." Sam eyed the mirror and noticed a different car tailing them. "Damn, we're not home free, yet. Did Deeks say when he get here?"

"I couldn't get a hold of Mr. Deeks or Ms. Blye."

"What?" Sam's jaw dropped. "Something is not right." He grabbed his cell phone and dialed the hospital and got connected to G's room. No answer. He let it ring at least ten times. "We've got problems. Better call LAPD and get some help."

"You called Mr. Callen's room?"

"No answer."

"I'll get LAPD to the hospital too."

Sam tried another cleaning run on the newest tail, hoping to lose them in traffic. The car, a dark grey BMW kept right up, following the Challenger. "I'm not losing this tail. We need LAPD soon or we're history, Hetty." While waiting at a red light, he watched her dialing several numbers. Across the four lane street, he saw a black and white and decided to make an illegal turn to get their undivided attention. The light turned green and Sam started a left hand turn from the far right lane, cutting in front of several lanes filled with cars. The grey BMW sped up, attempting to ram Sam's Challenger from the side. He finished his illegal turn just in time, watching the BMW slam into the bumper of a car in one of the two left hand turn lanes.

The black and white stayed with the accident scene instead of pursuing Sam. He pulled out his cell phone again and dialed G's room direct this time. It rang 15 times and his partner still didn't answer. Sam raced toward the hospital, thinking only one thing: Someone had gotten to G and he was in trouble. Just thinking about that scenario being a possibility caused Sam's gut to feel as if it were twisted into a knot. He broke every speed limit and ran every red light on his way to the hospital. Sam was thankful Hetty didn't scold him or complain, but held onto the sissy bar tight, her knuckles starting to whiten.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Sam raced up the stairs to G's ICU cubicle on the second floor with the silver, metal box under his left arm. He found the room empty. The sheets were bloodied. On closer examination, he found a bullet embedded in the mattress. Sam slumped down in the chair, close to tears.

Hetty entered the cubicle and stared at the bed and the blood. She spun around and headed to the nurse's station. After showing her ID, she asked to see the supervisor. "I need to know where Mr. Callen is." Sam came up along side Hetty, showing the nurse his ID.

"Surgery."

She breathed out a huge sigh of relief. "What happened?"

"Someone tried to kill him."

Hetty gasped.

Sam's jaw dropped.

"Two agents are with him in the surgical suite," the charge nurse said. "As requested by the agents, we've transferred all patients out of the wing. After Mr. Callen is brought back to his room, the wing will be placed under strict security protocols."

"Have Special Agent Kensi Blye and Special Agent Marty Deeks been here?" Hetty asked.

"Yes, they took charge and called in LAPD," the charge nurse said. "Those are the two agents who are in Mr. Callen's surgical suite."

Both Hetty and Sam sighed almost at the same time.

"Would either of you two care for some coffee?"

"Yes, thank you," Sam said. He took several sips of coffee before deciding to reenter G's room and sit down. Without any sleep, except for a couple of cat naps, for almost 48 hours, he closed his eyes for a few minutes. For the first time in years, Sam felt as if he were in a battle zone. His stress level was through the roof. The normal calmness he prided himself with was gone, and replaced with a shakiness he hadn't felt since being captured, beaten, and buried alive in Serbia. He shuddered, pushing those memories aside. Sleep wouldn't come until G opened the box again, saw what was inside, and remembered those words he first spoke. He rubbed the bridge of his nose in an attempt to relax himself. It worked every time before, but not this time.

Hetty entered the cubicle with a cup of tea in hand. "Those were some excellent E&E tactics, Mr. Hanna."

Sam opened his eyes. "Thanks, Hetty."

"Don't worry about the red lights and illegal maneuvers, I'll be talking to LAPD about the situation."

"And Director Vance?"

"I've called him and cancelled the reports until we know about Mr. Callen's condition."

Four nurses rolled in a new hospital bed and removed the shot up one. Less than five minutes later, Callen was brought into the cubicle on a gurney and transferred to the bed. The four nurses returned and fussed over their patient, taking vitals and setting up his equipment.

Sam noticed right away that there was no ETT. Boy would G be happy about that. He watched his partner's breathing. Maybe it wasn't another chest wound. He could only hope.

While the nurses finished settling their patient into his bed, Callen moaned and winced. A nurse squeezed a bolus of painkiller into his intravenous line. She reached across her patient's chest to adjust the heart and vital sign monitoring wires.

"No!" Callen screamed and grabbed her arm.

Sam shot off his chair. "G, release her arm." He noticed his eyes weren't even open yet, but he knew the arm had crossed over his chest. Must have been close to the maneuver the attacker used on him. "It's Sam, calm down." He pried his partner's hand off the nurse's arm.

"We've dealt with this from the moment he started to awaken after surgery," the nurse said. "A surgeon will be in shortly to discuss what occurred and what transpired during surgery." The fours nurses left Callen's room.

Sam sat again, yawning and needing sleep even more after dealing with all this.

Kensi and Deeks strode in the cubicle together.

"Okay Deeks, how did you manage to be in two places at once?" Sam asked.

"Sorry, Sam, Hetty wouldn't let me ride with you."

"So you did what?"

"Kensi picked me up and we were about to head out for a short practice at a laser tag arena," Deeks said.

"Cheating?" Sam asked.

"Practice is cheating?" Kensi asked. "Since when?"

"We've got a man down." He feigned a pout.

"Anyway, I picked up Deeks and we got this call from the hospital," she said, ignoring Sam's fake pout. "They attempted to call Hetty, but couldn't reach her."

"Yeah, we had our own troubles."

Kensi glanced at him sideways.

"Go on."

"We got here and discovered Callen got shot while trying to fight off his attacker."

"You initiated security protocol, excellent work, Mr. Deeks and Ms. Blye."

"What happened to you, Sam?" Kensi asked.

"Got a tail twice, performed some sweet E&E, and gave Hetty the most wicked, white knuckle ride of her life." He snickered. Hetty shot him a look and smiled.

"New protocol must be initiated from this point for all agents involved on this case, including Mr. Beale and Ms. Jones," Hetty said. "No one, and I mean no one is allowed outside NCIS without a trained weapon specialist. Understood?" All of her agents except the drugged one in bed acknowledged her. "Mr. Hanna, as soon as sleeping beauty becomes fully conscious, I need you to finish what you began with the box," she said. "Ms. Blye and Mr. Deeks you'll need to help Mr. Beale and Ms. Jones discover why so many people want the blasted box."


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

A nurse came into the room to check his partner's vitals and Sam awakened and sat upright. The last time was four hours ago and G lost it, screaming and punching. Sam still didn't know what happened to make his partner's attitude change, but something bothered him enough that he now resisted every person who entered in a white coat or white outfit. It meant only one thing to Sam, it was someone who gained access to the hospital by posing as an employee.

"No! Get your hands off me!" Callen panicked and tried to grab the nurse's arm. She backed away before he could get her and left the room.

"G, calm down."

"No, damn it, leave me alone," he said. "What he hell is this thing doing in me?"

"What thing, G?"

"This?"

Oh no, G verses the urinary catheter. "You pee in it."

"The hell I do!"

"G, it stays until the nurses take it—"

"The hell they will!"

"G—"

"Don't patronize me, I'm taking it out before they get a chance."

"You planning on walking to the bathroom on your own?"

"Screw you, Sam."

"Glad you're finally acknowledging who I am."

"I knew who you were when I first got back in here."

"How?"

"The smell." He snickered.

"Now you're asking for it, man," Sam said. "You don't smell too rosy yourself." He laughed.

"You could use a mother."

"That is below, below."

"How far below?"

"What drugs do they have you on, G?"

"Some pretty good stuff." He grinned wide.

"Feeling no pain?"

"Absolutely zip."

"Seriously, G, the catheter stays in until you can ambulate to the bathroom."

"I hate that word, ambulate," he said. "I hated it when I was in the hospital last time. It reminds me of ambulance and I hate those too."

"What happened with your attacker?" Sam asked, figuring he might as well be blunt about the attempted murder.

"I can't talk about it."

"Not going to work, G, Hetty wants a report and so does Director Vance."

"The director?"

"Yes, and on the box too."

"Damned box, I'd like to shove it…"

"What happened, G?" Sam asked. "You can't keep this bottled up inside you."

"Maybe you can't, but I will."

"Do you want me to call Nate?"

"What?"

"Nate."

"I'm not talking to anyone about it, period."

Sam took out his cell phone and started to punch in numbers. He hoped his fake out would get the results he needed. As long as G didn't know about the new security protocols, Sam would use it to get answers from the most secretive man he knew. Nate couldn't come to the hospital even if G asked for him. The man couldn't use a gun to save himself not to mention the terrified mien on his face when he saw an agent with one. Sam snickered. And Hetty decided it was too much of security risk.

"What are you doing?"

"Calling Nate."

"The hell you are!" Callen said. "Turn it off, now"

"Only if you promise to talk to me."

"Maybe."

"This requires a yes or no answer." He paused for maximum effect, showing G he was ready to punch the send button.

"Okay, yes."

Sam shut off the phone and pocketed it.

"Only if you promise me one thing."

"No promises."

"Sam, listen to me, promise me this one thing, and I'll tell you."

"What one thing?"

Callen rolled away from his partner, hiding his face in the pillow. "Promise me you won't leave this hospital room ever again until I leave here with you."

"Look at me, G."

"I can't, man."

Sam knew he was crying. He heard the change in his partner's voice.

"Kens wanted me to be like this, now she's got it."

"No, G, she didn't want you to suffer and break down and cry," Sam said. "It was a joke. That's why I didn't record any more than a few minutes of the first bullet you took." He stood up and came over to the bedside. "Sorry, G, nobody wanted this for you, especially not Kensi or Deeks or me."

"This orderly, damn it, I think he was an orderly, maybe a technician of some kind, came into my room." He sniffled and wiped away his tears. "He acted as if he was fluffing my pillows. Out of no where, I see a pillow in his hands and he starts smothering with it and choking me. I tried to scream, but it was too muffled because of the pillow. I struggled. I know I scratched him on his face and arms. I totally lost it, Sam, thrashing and kicking and screaming, until I heard him pull the hammer back on his gun. I froze. I thought he was going to shoot me in the head." No longer able to hold it together, Callen broke down and cried. He pulled the blanket over his face. "He held the gun up to my chest, and asked me where the picture was. I didn't know what he was talking about. He kept saying, tell me where the damned picture is or I'll kill you. After a while, he took the pillow away and stared at me and asked me again. I couldn't speak to tell him. He said he'd kill everyone on our team to get the answers he needed from me. Stupid me, I couldn't even answer him. And then he shot me. I don't even know where."

"You're lucky he was not a good shot or you must have moved."

"I don't remember if I moved or not. I froze in fear, hearing him say how he'd kill everyone on our team." Callen started crying again. "I've never felt closer to anyone than you. I don't know what I'd do without you as a partner and a friend. Damn it."

Sam handed G several tissues.

"Where did he shoot me?" Callen asked, unable to handle any more sharing about the closeness he felt to his partner, he changed the subject, fast.

"In your cast once and your lung again."

"Again?"

"Yeah, same one at least."

"That must be the only good news."

"No, you're alive."

"And I lose it every time the nurses try to touch me."

"They understand why and they won't be wearing white from now on."

"You figured it out before I told you?"

"Yeah, G."

"Thanks Sam." Callen gave himself more painkiller even though he was doped up already. He wanted to forget about what that man had done to him and threatened to do to the his new family.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Callen awakened to light shining through the window behind his partner's sleeping and snoring form on the window seat. He needed to get the catheter out before it drove him crazier than he already felt on the inside. Memories of his childhood in numerous foster homes had replayed in his head earlier in the morning. Then dreams awakened him several times. But there was one dream in particular which he knew was a recurring one. The first time he had it was around age five prior to be placed in a foster home. After that, Callen had the dream every night for years. When little, he woke up screaming. The foster parents assumed it was a typical childhood nightmare. Callen had never told anyone about the dream. The oddest part? It was in a foreign language, one he didn't have fluency in, especially as a child and still now as an adult. Yet, he understood what every word meant.

It was same language his attacker spoke in when he demanded Callen show him the picture. But what picture?

Callen was about to press the medicine release button, but his partner changed positions and it startled him. He froze, his finger on the button, but not pressing it. _Damn it, too jumpy for my own good._

A nurse came into the cubicle. He stared at her as she did her morning routine, noting his vitals. Yet, he still couldn't depress the button. It was as if he were frozen in time.

"Mr. Callen?" the nurse asked.

"Leave now," he said, louder than he wanted to. "I need you to leave now." His eyes filled with tears. Damn it. "Sam, please, help me." He shuddered seeing a movie before his eyes. It wasn't the flashbacks Callen imagined he'd have right now.

Sam shot off the window seat and came over to his partner's side.

Callen squeezed his eyes shut. "Make her leave, please."

"What's going on, G?"

"Just do it, now!" He pulled the covers up to chin and shuddered.

Sam motioned for the nurse to leave. "Talk to me, G." He turned on the light over his bed and saw his partner's emotional distress. "What happened, man?"

"It's not what happened recently."

He glanced at his partner sideways.

"A recurring dream," he said. "I need to see the box again."

"Right now?"

"What's wrong with right now?"

"It's early in the morning."

"Now, or I'll get out of this bed myself and get it."

"The alarm system will trigger and two orderlies will come in here."

"What?"

"You tried to get out of bed at least two times last night."

"I don't remember."

"You wanted to see the box, and wouldn't take no for an answer," Sam said. "You got medicated."

"Show me the damned box!" Callen raised his voice. "It's mine, give it to me, now!"

"Calm down, G."

"No, it's mine."

Sam brought the box over from the window seat. "I don't know why you're so adamant about seeing this." He placed it on his partner's lap.

Callen's eyes teared up again. He opened the lid and removed the top photograph, shutting the lid afterwards. Tears rolled down his face. His lower lip and chin trembled. "Моја породица. Чедо моје мило породице," he said, sobbing, "mоја породица. Чедо моје мило породице. I now know. They're my family. I can speak fluent Serbian. My family. My precious family."

"What?" Sam's jaw dropped. "Since when?"

"I used to when I was a young child."

"The baby is you."

"Yes," he said. "Моја сестра, my sister." Callen pointed to the young girl then covered his mouth, tears flowing down his face. "They killed them, Sam."

"What? Who killed who?"

"They did."

"You're not making sense, G."

"Damn it, why can't I make sense," he said. "I'm…"

"You're grieving from the loss you never grieved as a child."

"What?"

"If you're just remembering this as if it happened yesterday, it is a loss."

"I don't know, Sam," he said. "I used to have this horrible nightmare for years, a recurring one. It began when I was five. I think it was about them, my parents, being murdered. Maybe not, maybe I'm just losing it. Forget it."

"No, you blurted this out and I believe it's true," he said. "Children don't usually lie about horrible experiences. I wonder what else is in this box."

"I'm not sure I want to know any more."

"What?"

"This is creepy, Sam."

"Creepy?"

"Yeah, my attacker spoke fluent Serbian to me and I understood every word, as if he were speaking in English."

"Why didn't you tell me the guy was speaking Serbian?"

"Too shocked by the whole… the attack, and the fact I could understand him."

"I need to call Hetty."

"No!"

"G, listen to me, the last two gunmen to fire at you were Serbian."

"So?"

"What if they belong to the same group of people who murdered your parents?"

"It doesn't make sense, Sam," Callen said. "My attacker wanted a specific picture."

Sam pushed the bedside table across the bed. He cleared everything off the top. "We're gonna find out right now what else in this special box."

"I don't want Hetty in here."

"I'll shoo her out and it's early still," he said. "May I?" Sam gestured to the box.

"I'm nervous about what's in there."

"Only one way to find out."

"Okay."

Sam kept the box on G's lap and started to remove the photographs, laying them on the table.

Callen eyed one photo as his partner spread them on the bedside table. "Stop."

"Not finished."

"No, stop!" He removed the photo from the table and stared at it in utter disbelief. "It can't be. Теткица."

"Let me see it."

"I… no, Sam, not a good idea."

"Yes." He took it from his partner's hands. Sam gasped. It was Hetty, standing beside G's family.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Callen took the picture back from his partner and studied it. "Why didn't she ever tell me?"

"G, what did you say the first time you held the picture?"

"What?"

"It was just as before," Sam said. "You mumbled something in a foreign language."

"Serbian. It was Serbian." He gasped and covered his mouth. Теткица. Oh damn. "I said… Теткица."

"Which means?"

"Auntie," Callen said, keeping his voice low. He covered his mouth again.

"G?"

"Call it a Freudian slip, Sam, I didn't even know I said it."

"Hetty's your—"

"Don't say it, please don't say it out loud again," Callen said, almost whispering. "Don't know if she's my real you-know-what or not. Don't have a clue. You have to promise me, not a word to anyone about this."

"Why?"

"I'm not ready to deal with this."

"You're not confronting Hetty?"

He ignored his partner and dug into the box, lifting out more photos.

"G?"

"Damn it, Sam, don't ask me questions about that right now."

"Why?"

"I…" His eyes flooded with tears. "It brings up too many questions I can't, no, don't have answers for."

"Well, confronting her might give you those answers."

"Yeah, right, we're talking about Hetty, Sam," he said. "If you think I'm secretive, getting information out of her is like attempting to break into Fort Knox."

Sam laughed.

"She won't just volunteer information." Callen sighed. "If she had, I would've known about all of this already."

"She owes it to you."

"Doesn't mean she'll divulge it."

"True."

His jaw dropped again. The photograph he lifted from the box shook him to the core. He turned it over to see if there was a date. On the back, was the same handwriting which he had found in the notebook of foster homes he lived in. It was the same handwriting which he found at his sister's grave. But then his dream didn't make sense. The nightmare would be wrong. "Моја мајка."

"What is it, G?"

"Maybe my mother wasn't murdered along with my father."

Sam glanced at him sideways.

"This is a photograph of my mother and the date is _after_ I was placed in the foster care system at age five."

"Now you _need_ to speak with Hetty."

"No!" He slid the photograph under his pillow and shut the box, shoving it aside. "I'm not doing this any more. Enough."

"What?"

"Just stop, no more, I can't." He squeezed his eyes shut and pulled the covers up to his chin. Tears fell down his face. Sam grabbed the box off the bed and placed it on the bedside table. He was about to place the photographs in it, when noticed a corner of something different under the bottom photograph. "What did you find?" Callen asked, opening his eyes and watching his partner. Sam pulled the bedside table over to the window seat. He pushed his pillow and blanket aside and dumped the contents of the silver, metal box onto the window seat.

"Ever hide something in this box?"

"Hide something?"

"False bottom, G." He tried to pull it up, but it wouldn't budge.

"Okay, this is going to sound strange."

"Nothing surprises me any more. Nothing."

"I think I remember a key being in the box," Callen said. "It's taped onto the back of a card."

Sam sat on the window seat and pushed the photographs into a corner. "No card."

"On the lid?"

"Where is this coming from, G?"

"I couldn't begin to tell you."

"I'll believe that." A postcard was sealed into the lid's underside, face down. He removed the postcard from the lid. The picture was from a foreign country. The signs on building told Sam that. Nothing was in English. "I don't recognize the language on it."

"It's a river."

"Yeah, and?"

"Смедерево or Smederevo, it's in Serbia."

"Yeah, you're getting creepier all the time, G."

"Thanks for the compliment." He snickered.

"Good to hear you banter with me."

"I need it."

"Me too."

"I also know it as Semendria," he said. "Did you find the key?"

Sam searched the inside of the lid. "No key."

"Under the tape?" Callen said. "It's a tiny key, about half the size of my pinky."

"Ah, scored." He brought the box and key back over to G. "I think you should do the honors. It's your box."

"I don't want to look in there."

"You know what's in there?"

"Yeah."

"Since when?"

"Since you told me about the false bottom."

"It's all coming back to you?"

"Everything and I'd rather not know most of it." Callen grasped the key and his partner held the box. "I'm afraid of the memories which might surface, if I open this compartment." On one corner was a tiny spot to lock in the key. He twisted the key in it and it opened.

"Before we look, who's box is this?"

"You would have to ask me that right now."

"You know me."

"Yeah, Mr. Super Curious," Callen said. "I guess that is what makes you good at your job."

"That and having a partner who's good at what he does." Sam winked at him.

"I'm not sure I want to answer your question at this moment."

"So, it's not yours?"

"It is, Sam, but it's about who gave it to me." Callen pulled the false bottom away from the metal box. He stared at the contents. Passports: Four of them. Several pocket-sized, leather bound diaries and an equal number of leather bound notebooks. A handful of various size keys, ranging in size from the tiny one used to open the false bottom to one the size of his index and middle finger.

"Your passport is probably among these, G."

"Crap, I know." He sucked on his lower lip.

"Are you at least curious to see what your real name is?"

"More like terrified," he said. "I've searched for my first initial's meaning for years. But what if my name isn't even Callen?"

"I never thought about that," Sam said. "I wouldn't be able to call you G any more."

He laughed. "Never thought about it that way." Callen took a passport from the box and opened it. "My mother's? I don't know. Sabina Cornea? What?"

"So your mother is part of an eyeball?"

"Very funny, Sam."

"Well?"

"It's what it says." He handed the passport to his partner, and grabbed the next passport. "My father's." Tears streamed down his face. Sam handed his partner the kleenex box. "Dimitry Enescu." He removed several tissues, blew his nose and wiped the tears from his face. "Tatăl meu."

"That was Romanian, G."

"I know, my parents were Romanian."

"How do you know?"

"Romanian names, Sam." Callen removed another passport from the box. "My sister's, Livia Cornea."

"Let me see that one."

He grabbed the last passport and held it in his hands, afraid to open it.

"Well, are you gonna look or just hold it?"

"I'm chicken, Sam."

"I don't see any feathers on you." Sam inspected G's head.

"Okay, smart-ass."

"I want to know and so do you."

"Ready to never call me G again?"

"Yeah, go for it."

Callen opened up his passport and stared at his real name. "There _is_ a G in it."

"Come on, man, the mystery is killing me."

"Really, don't see any gunshot wounds, no knife wounds, you haven't been poisoned, no—"

"Okay, maybe that wasn't the best choice of words."

"Mihail Grigore Cornea." He examined the photo of himself, his birthdate, birthmark location, and eye color. Callen gave it to Sam to study.

"Hey, I can still call you, G," he said. "The photo looks like a baby G."

"A what?"

"A baby sized version of you," he said. Callen reached out to slug his partner, but Sam managed to move away just in time, avoiding his partner's mean hook. "Ah, ah, ah, no punching your favorite undercover ops agent," Sam said, shaking his finger at him. "A birthmark, this will be the deciding factor. They don't have these types of identifiers on US Passports. Although, the description may be the reason. A distinct birthmark. They failed to describe what makes it distinct. Location: left lower back. I want to see it."

"Hell no, Sam!"

"Seriously, roll over."

"Absolutely not."

"Do it so I can _ass-ertain_ your identity." He laughed at his own joke.

"That's sick, Sam, and the answer is still no," he said.

"You're turning beautiful shades of pink, G," Sam said. "Makes me wonder where I must _ass-ertain_ your identifying birthmark."

"Sam!"

"Over now or I'll force the issue."

"Huh?"

"I'll manhandle you into position."

"Manhandle me?"

"Yeah, if necessary I'll place you in a Navy SEAL's chokehold to _ass-ertain_ your birthmark's location."

"You wouldn't."

"Try me."

"You're serious?"

"Very."

"Damn." Callen knew he wasn't going to win this battle. With the threat of being manhandled and the possible pain which it might cause, he rolled over to his right side. "Don't take too—"

"Hot damn, just as the passport says—birthmark on lower left back and close to the buttocks," Sam said. "Sweet, now that _is _distinctive."

"Don't even say it."

"I'm saying it." He laughed.

"Sam."

"A heart-shaped birthmark," he said.

"Damn it."

"Not only heart-shaped, but a port wine birthmark, sweet," Sam said. "This would make a sweet comeuppance."

"What?" He rolled onto his back and pulled up the blankets. "Don't you dare!"

"You daring me, G?"

"Ah, no, just don't, okay?"

"Gives me some great ideas."

"Sam!"

"Passport says you have blue eyes. You wearing contacts to get that _deep_, blue color to your iris?" He snickered.

"I ought slug you."

"But you won't, _G, _because you love me."

"Yeah, there's more truth to that statement now, than you know."

"Ever notice how the color deepens with certain emotions?"

"Yeah."

"Like right now," Sam said. "For once, I believe you're feeling the brotherly love I have for you in this partnership."

"Yeah, I am, Sam." Callen smiled.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

"Not Papa, no!" Callen screamed in his sleep, tears streaming down his face. "Please don't take him." He pawed the air, trying to grab onto his father's arm. "Papa!" Callen rolled to his side and yelped, cringing and curling into a fetal position and whimpering. His body still hurt where the chest tube was removed earlier in the evening, and his chest was still sore from the two gunshot wounds. He willed himself to calm down. The nightmare still fresh in his mind, Callen saw pictures flash before his eyes.

Sam rushed over to him. "G, you okay?"

"Another damned nightmare and the same one." He kept himself curled on his right side.

"Is this the recurring nightmare?"

"I think so, but it confuses me," he said. "I thought my mother was murdered too. This doesn't make sense."

"Maybe the only way is to ask Hetty."

"That's the last thing I want to do."

"Why, G?"

"You know why."

"She came in here this morning during your first nightmare, asking if you were all right."

"If Hetty cares this much, why didn't she tell me about all of this?" Callen asked. "I don't understand her evasiveness."

"Maybe she doesn't know what you think she knows."

"Hetty gave me the silver, metal box."

"What?" Sam's jaw dropped.

"I think she knows more than she's letting on, and it exasperates me that she hid this all from me." He sighed. "My mother and Hetty gave me the box. I need to read those diaries and notebooks."

"G?"

"I'm missing something in all this."

"Of course," he said, "we only scratched the surface of the box and its contents. But we have a problem."

"Don't tell me, Hetty wants it, right?"

"Yeah, it is evidence which might contain intel about who threatened your life."

"Great." Callen sighed loud. He sat up in bed and dangled his legs off the side.

"You need help getting up?"

"Yeah, you only want to peek at my birthmark." He winked at his partner.

Sam laughed and stood next to his partner. "Lean on me."

"My doctor wants me to ambulate, still hate that word, on my own by this afternoon," Callen said. "I don't know how that's going to happen." He winced and shuddered, the aching and stabbing pains in his left side made him want to crawl back in bed under the covers.

"Easy, G, slow it down."

"Maybe that's my problem, wanting to hurry up and get there and back as fast as possible."

"Okay?" Sam helped his partner into the bathroom.

"Better than a catheter." Callen closed the door.

"I'm glad I didn't have to endure too much of you and your aversion to catheters." Sam snickered.

"Don't make me laugh, still hurts too much." While washing his hands, he started to have a flashback about his father. The nightmare came flooding back into his mind. He grabbed the sides of sink and held on as if he were on a roller coaster ride, yet it was all in his mind. "No!" Callen slumped to the floor, shuddering and trembling.

"G!" He opened the door and helped his partner off the floor. "What's—"

"They killed him and I saw it, damn it, I saw it."

"Your father, right?"

"Yeah." Callen sighed again. He attempted to ambulate back to the bed on his own. Halfway there he collapsed onto a chair, gasping for air. "I can't do this."

"Do what?"

Callen leaned over and buried his face in his hands.

"Let me help you." He offered his partner a hand.

"No, Sam, I can't do this, examining the contents of the box, and remembering what happened to my family and me."

"Whatever you need, I'm here, G, I promise."

"Thank you," he said, "I never thought it would be this traumatic to remember what happened to my father." He lifted his head. "It happened in Serbia."

"When someone killed your father?"

"Yeah, my mother and I think, it's Hetty, escaped with my sister and me," Callen said. "Sounds preposterous, but I can see what's happening."

"How old are you?"

"Four."

"Old enough to remember what happened to you."

"It was in the nightmare." He sighed. "We're running away from this horrible scene—my father's murder by these Serbian militia-type men."

"Do you think your sister saw what happened?"

"Yeah."

"Ever wonder why your father's name is different?"

"My first thought, keep my identity hidden."

"The same reason someone separated Amy and you, kept you hidden and protected from these Serbian militia men?"

"That's exactly what I'm thinking, Sam," he said. "The thought crossed my mind the moment I found and read the passports. Maybe I'll never know if my mother's last name is really Cornea."

"I believe you might find out if you spoke with Hetty."

"There you go again with that harebrained idea."

"If you want to discover more of the truth, I think it's your best bet."

"And more coverups and more lies, more half-lies, and more half-truths."

Sam sighed.

"Well, it's true and you know it."

"Did you ever think she might have taken an oath with your mother to protect you?"

"From what?"

"What you overheard or saw or have in your possession?" Sam asked. "And maybe that's why Hetty is evasive and secretive?"

"Never occurred to me."

"It's something to consider."

"Maybe, she acquired her skills from a special forces soldier, Evade & Escape?"

"Smart-ass." Sam laughed.

"That's all I'll do, consider it," Callen said. "When I get back in the bed, I want to see the box again."

"I'm glad you didn't say, 'if,' G, because I'd have to slug you for giving up so easily."

"You'd probably knock me off my feet with your powerful slug." The corners of his mouth turned up. "I'm a fragile guy." He pushed off the seat using the armrests and steadied himself on the bedside table. A few more steps and he was in bed again.

"Nice, man, you did it by yourself." Sam brought the box over to the bedside.

"I think I need a breather."

"The deep breathing is good for your lungs."

"And tiring too." He closed his eyes and slowed his breathing down. As much as Callen hated needles, a bolus of his painkiller would be perfect after his jaunt to the bathroom. His next painkiller dose wasn't due for another hour. He was watching the clock, a habit he hadn't practiced in years. After opening his eyes again, Callen grasped the box and was about to open it.

Hetty strolled into ICU cubicle. "I need this room, Mr. Hanna," she said. "For Mr. Callen's eyes and ears only."

* * *

><p>Reviews appreciated and welcomed.<p> 


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

Callen stared at Hetty, unable to speak. _She knows. Why didn't she tell me? Why did she make me live like this not knowing the truth?_

"Mr. Callen?"

"Hetty." He crossed his arms.

"You know what I came here for, don't make this difficult."

"I'm not giving you this box." He shoved it under the covers. Everything he ever wanted to know about himself was in the box. He knew it. "It's mine."

"True, and it's part of the investigation into the attack on you."

"So you're admitting it's the truth?"

"Yes."

Callen sighed. "Are you my aunt?" Within he steeled himself against her half-lies and half-truths.

"Yes, Mr. Callen."

"Can't you just for once call me by my real name?" he asked. "You know, you damn well know it. Just say it! Damn it. Say it."

"Give me the box."

"I can't do that," he said. "I won't do it."

"Then I'll take it by force."

He gasped, imagining in his mind what she'd do to him.

"Have you restrained and drugged and take it."

Callen's jaw dropped. "You'd do that?"

"Yes, in this case I would."

"I can't believe it," he said. "You withhold intel from me about my life, and now you want take the only intel I have. I know you won't ever give it back once you get it."

"You're right, Mr. Callen, once I have the box I don't plan on giving it back."

"Why damn it, why?" His eyes moistened with tears.

"To protect your family."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I swore I'd protect your family at all costs."

"Me?"

"You and your mother."

"So she _is_ alive?"

"Yes."

"I want to know where she is."

"No deal, Mr. Callen," Hetty said, placing her hands on her petite hips. "Give me the box."

"Did my sister see them kill my father?" Callen decided to be blunt.

"No."

"I did."

"Yes."

"My mother?"

"Give me the box, Mr. Callen."

"She knows, damn it, just tell me."

"Read between the lines," she said. "I cannot tell you."

"Can you at least tell me what my first name is?"

"And then you will give me the box?"

"First and last name."

"The box." Hetty thrust her left hand forward. "Mr. Callen."

"My names." Callen's eyes filled up with more tears, threatening to spill over his eyelids and fall on his cheeks. "You owe me this much."

"I don't owe you a thing, except to protect your life at all costs."

"Including me knowing the truth about who I am?"

"If need be, Mr. Callen," she said. "Must I call for the orderlies?"

"Hetty, damn it, what would it hurt for me to know the truth?"

"Apparently, you're unable to read between the lines."

He glanced at her sideways.

"What part of, in danger, do you fail to understand?"

"I know what it means," he said. "I'm not stupid."

"Maybe not stupid, but possibly not ready to hear what I'm saying to you."

"Another cryptic message."

"Mr. Callen!"

"Well, Hetty, it's true."

"Even if I tell you your name, you won't be able to use it," she said. "If you used it, you would endanger both your mother and you."

"Great!" Callen crossed his arms. "So I guess this means, knowing my name is the booby prize?"

"Mr. Callen!" Hetty said, placing her hands on her hips again and sighing long and deep. "Grigore."

"I thought so, but I wasn't positive."

"I won't be changing it in your records."

"I wouldn't expect you to after what you told me," he said. "Was my father a spy?"

It was Hetty's turn to gasp.

"Thought so."

"You're getting better at reading between the lines with some parts of your identity."

"Talk about following in your father's footsteps…" Callen was doing his father's business.

"Different type of work than you do, though."

"And it got him killed."

"Yes, it did, Mr. Callen, sorry."

"My last name?"

"The box, and I'll be going."

"Damn it, Hetty, can't you just—"

"Read between the lines, Mr. Callen." She reached out her hand again. "I can't tell you any more at this time."

"You'll tell me more at a later date?"

"When you are ready to hear what I have to say."

A total cop out. Hetty was about to take the truth from his hands and that's all she could say? "You have to promise me you'll answer my questions."

"No promises about anything, Mr. Callen."

"And you just expect I give this to you freely?"

"As I said, the choice is yours, give it freely or hold on to it, I will obtain it one way or another."

Damn it. Callen pulled it out from under the covers.

"Wise choice, Mr. Callen."

"For whom?" He presented her with the box, tears rolling down his face.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

Callen awakened early in the morning. It was the only night his partner said he wouldn't be staying the night. Without Sam in his room, Callen felt too vulnerable. He hated the feeling, and rarely showed anyone this side of him since being shot twice.

After he saw someone rummaging through his room last night, Callen knew it was time to leave. The incident shook him to the core. Another possibility of an attempt on his life was too much to handle. The first time Sam doesn't spend the night, and he's compromised. It was now or never. He climbed out of bed, grabbed a plastic bag from the small closet across the room, removed his clothes, and started dressing. Callen used the chair's armrests to steady himself several times while getting dressed. _I shouldn't be doing this, but I'm scared to stay here any longer. Scared and undercover ops agent didn't belong in the same thought, but here they were together again._ Callen grabbed several items which had been touched by the person from last night and threw them into the plastic bag and tied it tight.

Against Medical Advice [AMA]. _I'll hear about it from Hetty and Sam, but it is necessary and needed right now. Right now!_ Callen half-walked, half-limped to the room's sliding glass doors with the plastic bag tucked under his arm. When the doors slid open, he stepped backward several feet.

"What are you doing, G?"

"Don't argue with me." Callen slid past his partner who now stood just inside the cubicle.

"What? AMA?"

He didn't face his partner. "I have my reasons."

"There you go with that again."

"The food is terrible."

"G, the food is actually quite good here."

Damn.

"And the real reason you're leaving?"

"You didn't spend the night with me."

"Good come back line, but still not going to cut it with Hetty," Sam said. "Besides if you reach the next set of doors, you'll be arrested by LAPD."

Callen spun around and faced his partner. "What?"

"Hetty's request."

"Arrest me for what?"

"Obstruction of justice."

"What the hell?" Callen said.

"Sorry, G, if you leave, our investigation stalls."

"I don't believe this."

"If you don't, just try and leave."

Callen spun around and tottered toward the exit. Ten feet from the door, he stopped. Hetty. Damn. He sucked on his lower lip.

"Mr. Callen?"

"Hetty."

"AMA?"

He sighed.

"You must be feeling better."

He tottered to the door.

"Mr. Callen." Hetty placed her hands on her hips and stood in front of the door. "You'll be arrested."

"I'm not staying here any longer."

"Is this about the box?"

Tell the truth or lie. He stared over her left shoulder, refusing to look at her. "The box." Was it a partial truth or a partial lie?

"You need to let it go, Mr. Callen."

"Move aside."

She stepped aside. "Arrest him."

Callen's jaw dropped. When two officers grabbed him, he attempted to step backwards, but staggered and almost fell. The plastic bag slipped from under his arm to the floor. "I need that." The officers steadied their new prisoner, making sure he didn't topple over. Afterward they shoved him face first against a wall just inside the secured area. "Easy, man, I won't fight." They were nothing but rough with him. He yelped from the pressure of being shoved against the wall harder while they searched his clothing for weapons. "Hetty, tell them." One of the officer's grabbed his arms and shoved them behind his back, placing them in handcuffs. Callen grimaced and sucked on his lower lip. "You don't have to put those on, I'll cooperate, damn it." His arms pulled tight behind him intensified the stabbing and aching pains across his chest. "Hetty, please tell them." He panted and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to cope with the pain as it ripped through his entire chest cavity.

"Where do you want him taken, Ms. Lang?"

"Someone will arrive shortly to handle Mr. Callen." She stepped closer to her agent. "Mr. Hanna told you this would happen and you failed to listen to him."

"Screw you, Hetty," he said, gritting his teeth, part from anger and part from the excruciating pain shooting across the left side of his chest. "I need that plastic bag."

"Evidence?"

"Personal stuff from my room." He lied again.

"Hey, Callen."

He eyed Deeks. "What the hell?"

"He'll take care of you," she said. "Take him to where we discussed."

"Hetty, what the hell are you doing with me?"

"Whatever I want, Mr. Callen, you've checked out AMA and that alone places you in my custody." She entwined her hands behind her back. "You've obstructed justice too."

He watched her eye Deeks. "I need the bag."

Deeks retrieved it off the floor, looped his hand into Callen's handcuffed right arm, and marched him toward the elevator within the secured area.

"You don't have to—"

"Stuff it, Callen, I _have_ to follow orders." Deeks brought him inside the elevator.

Kensi stood against the back wall of the elevator, smiling at the two men when they entered. "Callen."

"Great." Callen's brow furrowed.

"Hold the button for Sam, Deeks."

"What?" His jaw dropped.

Sam strode into the elevator and pressed the basement button.

"Where are you—"

"Callen, if you know what's good for you, you'll zip your lips," Deeks said.

"I don't understand why—"

"Enough, G, you're under arrest, period."

When the elevator stopped, Sam and Deeks looped their hands into Callen's arms, and guided him toward the Challenger which was parked in the underground parking lot's staff area. Deeks helped position his prisoner on the backseat, Callen winced and grimaced with each change. "Can you just stop pushing me, Deeks?"

"I'll do more than that," he said. "Take these." He held out two tablets and some water.

"I'm not—"

"G, take them or Hetty told us to force them down you."

"What the hell is going on?"

"Do as you're told," Deeks said. "Ready?"

"Yeah, if you take these off."

"No, Callen, take the tablets or you'll take them by force." Callen opened wide and Deeks shoved them in his mouth. "Swallow." He pressed the water bottle to Callen's lips and watched him take several swallows. "Stick out your tongue."

"Bull—"

"Callen, I'll report this back to Hetty."

He stuck out his tongue and wagged it.

"No wonder Hetty wanted us to drug you."

"What kind of drugs?"

"You'll have your answer soon enough."

Callen stared out the window. "Where are you taking me?"

"G, just relax and let us do the driving and navigating."

"I hope this is some kind of joke, because if it isn't I'll beat the crap out of you, Deeks."

"You look helpless all trussed up in handcuffs, Callen," Kensi said, smiling. "I like the look on you. And now you'll be relaxed and cooperative too."

Callen shot her a dirty look. "So, they're not sedatives?"

"No, and I didn't handcuff you," Deeks said. "But I like you in handcuffs too. Much more compliant."

"I'll make you compliant next time we play laser tag."

"Ooh, I like the sound of that," he said, sneering at him, "you into some kinky action?"

"Damn you, Deeks!" Callen gritted his teeth. "I've got something planned for your comeuppance to make you blush."

"Watch out for him, Deeks, his brain had too much time for planning our next game's punishments," Sam said, snickering.

"I heard you blush _nice_."

"Okay, who told Callen about the donuts?"

"Speaking of donuts, I didn't receive any while I was in the ICU."

"Don't worry about that, Sam stopped by and got enough for us to have a donut party."

"Where are you taking me?" Callen asked again, his speech slurred and slow.

"Ah, the change in the voice, drugged at last," Sam said. "Just close your eyes and relax. We'll be there soon enough. Kensi, text her and tell her what we've accomplished so far."

"You're texting Hetty?"

"Yes, my dear, sweet Callen."

He shot her another dirty look.

"Weapons ready," Deeks said.

"Same here," Kensi said.

"Weapons?"

"Long range and short range," she said. "Lay him down on the seat."

"What the hell—"

"Hush, sweet Callen." She placed a bullet proof shield over him, positioned her Remington 770 Sniper Rifle over his now semi-supine body, and pointed it out the back window. "In position, Sam. Hold still Callen, very still."

"I'm on back up, Sam."

"Here we go." Sam pulled out into traffic, heading toward their destination. He sped down side streets, traveling well over the speed limit. 'Whatever it takes, Hetty had said to him.'

Thirty minutes later, they arrived at their destination without one shot fired at them and no tail. Deeks and Sam half-dragged, half-walked Callen into NCIS Headquarters and laid him down on the couch in the lounge area. Kensi brought in the donuts, the plastic bag, and made coffee and tea.

"Everything secured?" Sam asked.

"Yes," she said.

"Time for some donuts and coffee."

Callen moaned and repositioned himself on his right side on the leather couch. He opened his eyes and glanced around.

"We can take these off, now." Sam removed his partner's handcuffs and laid them on the coffee table.

"Okay, what is this pure unadulterated crap?"

"It's called a kidnapping," Sam said, smirking.

"You did this on purpose?" Callen asked.

"Set you up."

"Why?"

"Have some fun, because we all missed this week's laser tag outing and our comeuppances," Sam said with a straight face.

"I hope you're not serious." Callen attempted to sit up, but was too drugged to finish the maneuver.

"Here, G, let me help you." He and Deeks positioned Callen against one arm rest, sitting up.

"Why?"

"You're starting to sound as if you're a broken record," Deeks said.

"First, tell me what's in the plastic bag, G."

"Stuff from my room."

"One more time, what's in the plastic bag?"

"Donuts?"

"Come on, man, Hetty knows you lied to her."

"It is stuff from my room."

"And?"

"Damn it, Sam." He sighed. "I don't know if I can talk about this, especially in front Deeks and Kensi."

"You need to tell someone," he said. "I stayed out of the room for a reason."

"Why?"

"You know why."

His eyes moistened with tears. "Someone was in my room last night, rifling through my stuff."

"Hetty knows."

"What?

"It's why she arranged to have me stay someplace else for last night."

"This was all a ruse?" Callen asked.

"Yes, to make whomever works at the hospital believe you were arrested by the LAPD."

"They'll try to find me there."

"That's what Hetty's hoping," Sam said. "What's in the bag?"

"They didn't use gloves."

"Not very professional."

"It's all the stuff from my room which the woman touched."

"You know more than we do, a woman, huh?" he said. "You can put the undercover ops agent in the hospital, but you can't take the undercover ops agent out of him. Good work, G, Hetty will be pleased. A donut?"

"Did you get my favorite flavor?"

"Yep." Sam grabbed a donut and a coffee for him.

"And donut holes?"

"Several boxes," he said, "we'll need it. Eric and Nell are close to finishing the download of the surveillance tapes from your room and your secured wing at the hospital. They'll bring the intel down here and then the work begins, figuring out which woman is the mole."

"How did Hetty know someone was snooping around my room?"

"She suspected someone was and that was one reason she wanted the box."

"Protect it," Callen said. "She could've told me."

"No, because the snoop was listening in on everything you said on the day you had the nightmare about your father."

"You still haven't told me how."

"Someone on the staff asked questions about your nightmare, which were inconsistent with a concern about your well being," Sam said. "The charge nurse brought it to Hetty's attention. Hetty informed me and the ruse began."

"You purposely pressured me about going AMA?"

"Yeah, I did," he said, "I knew it would, as you like to say, irk you."

"It did."

"Perfect then, you put on a good show for this mystery woman."

"It wasn't a show, Sam, you irked me and I was, damn it, scared, okay, scared."

"I'd be scared too, if I were in your situation," Sam said. "You were shot twice and you didn't need to be attacked again."

"We both understand," Kensi said. "Glad we got you out of that situation." Kensi and Deeks walked over to their desks and sat down.

"The medicine?"

"Hetty got it from the charge nurse," he said. "They're your painkiller and muscle relaxant."

"That's why I feel so relaxed." Callen said. "LAPD bringing Hetty here?" He took several sips of coffee and a bite of his donut.

"Later on, when the situation cools off."

Eric and Nell entered the lounge with their tablets. "We're ready."

"Help yourself to some donuts, but just leave the chocolate donuts with rainbow sprinkles alone."

"Callen's?" Eric asked.

"You guessed it."

Sam and Eric turned the plasma TV toward the sofa. Eric sat next to Callen and showed him the index of videos.

"Eric, the unsub is a woman," Callen said.

"That narrows it down considerably," he said. "Let me reconfigure the list of videos." In less than two minutes, Eric set up the new parameters and presented the tablet to Callen again.

He scrolled through several videos and came upon one video of this woman standing at the nurse's station. Callen shuddered and set the tablet on the seat next to him.

"G?"

He sucked on his lower lip.

"G, what's going on?"

"I, damn it, it's her."

Sam, Deeks, and Kensi gathered around the plasma TV and stared at the unsub.

"Eric—"

"I'm on it already, Sam, searching for her identity."

"Nell, I want everything on this woman," Callen said.

"You got it, Callen," she said.

"Time for shut eye for you, G."

"You serious?" he asked. "Right in the middle of discovering this woman's identity you want me to take a nap?"

"I have intel about your not-so-restful sleep last night."

"True, one of worst nights of sleep in the hospital, despite being medicated for sleep."

"You need your beauty—"

"Found her identity and you're not going to believe it."

"I'll believe just about anything," Callen said.

"I'll bet you will," Sam said, winking at him.

"Serbian national in this country on a specialized diplomat's assistant passport, an expired one," Eric said. "Ana Nikitovic."

"Find the diplomat who hired her," Callen said.

"Working on that."

"And send a picture to Hetty, Eric."

"You sure, Callen?"

"Yes, Eric, send one to her, she might know this woman." He knew this woman all too well.

"Sent."

Sam's cell phone buzzed. It was a text message. "G, Hetty wants to speak with you in private," he said. "We'll all scatter until you call us back over, okay?"

"Sounds good." He took the phone from his partner and autodialed her number. "Hetty?"

"We good, Mr. Callen?"

"I just want to know one thing," he said. "Was it a ruse from the moment you started to put undue pressure on me for the box?"

"Yes, I'm sorry, but I had my suspicions, and I needed to protect you from whomever was trying to get to you and find that box."

Callen sighed deep and long. "Why couldn't you give me a hint?"

"Didn't want to give away our intent to make it appear I was angry with you, and that I knew more than you about the contents of the box."

"You don't?" he said, now confused again about what she knew.

"I know some things, Mr. Callen, but the rest is yours to discover."

"You mean the box is mine to keep?"

"It always was yours," Hetty said, "and always will be."

Callen sighed. "I know her."

"The woman?"

"Yes, saw her picture in the box of photos."

"And?"

"Nightmares."

"You certain it is her?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so."

"You recognize her from more than the hospital?" Hetty asked, wanting to make sure of the woman's identity.

"Yes, I'm afraid so."

"Not good."

"Not good at all."

"How do you like NCIS Headquarters?" she asked.

He knew the meaning to her question. Callen was back sleeping on the couch in the lounge until this ops was over. "It's okay, Hetty, it beats another bullet in my chest."

"Thought you'd say that," she said. "I'll notify Vance of the situation. Eric and Nell running intel on her?"

"Yes."

"Please inform them and the team, eyes only."

"Does this mean I'm off this ops?"

"Not necessarily, Mr. Callen, but not in the same capacity as you'd usually be," Hetty said. "I value your intel more than Eric's or Nell's on this ops. Understood?"

"Yes, and thank you."

"For keeping you on in some capacity?"

"Yes, and for the box." He couldn't wait to open the silver, metal box again to discover more details about his life.

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><p><strong>Thanks for the reviews and for reading my story.<strong>


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

While exploring the contents of the silver, metal box which now lay on his lap, Callen dozed off again on the leather couch in the lounge. It was the third or fourth time in an hour. He couldn't keep his eyes open, because of the drugs which he needed to take for the pain and muscle spasms in his chest.

Sam lifted the box from his partner's lap, closed the lid, and placed it on the side table. He pulled the blanket over his partner's sleeping form and settled onto the leather chair next to him.

"Sam, I was looking at that," Callen said with a drugged voice, opening his eyes.

"So you read with your eyes closed?" Sam asked, smirking.

"You ought to try it sometime, makes the words look different."

"I'll bet it does."

"These drugs make it hard to keep my eyes open."

"Maybe because you need to rest more than you need to explore the contents of that box?"

"Yeah, but—"

"You'd rather resist, as per usual for you."

"Yeah."

"You remind me of those pictures of toddlers doing face plants in their bowls of spaghetti."

Callen laughed. "I guess that's what I look and feel like."

"Yeah, hot spaghetti all over your face."

"Sam, you're making me feel hungry for something besides donuts."

"Good, because Deeks ordered Italian for everyone."

"I hope he goes to pick it up with protection."

"Yeah, Kensi riding shotgun."

"Did Hetty go home?"

"She's napping in the archive room."

"I need to speak with her about the woman."

"She said to not disturb her until the Italian food comes."

Callen closed his eyes again, drawing the blanket around him.

"Memory?"

"How did you know?"

"Certain things which you do with your body."

"You've been paying too close attention to my body language." He sighed.

"While in the hospital, I got to see intimate details of the real G."

"Yeah, I hope you didn't share them with your friends." Callen winked at him.

"You mean the—"

"Sam, you promised." His eyes flew open.

"Got you, G!" He roared with laughter. "Your mind goes straight to one thing. I never did get to ask you, when did you first notice it?"

"Now that's an embarrassing story," he said. "Hopefully, the Italian arrives _before_ I finish telling it."

"You could only hope, if it is a short story."

"My first date."

"Not enough intel, continue."

"Intel?" Callen laughed. "We went swimming at a river."

"Oh, I know where this is going," Sam said. "You got caught in some strong current and lost your swim trunks which were too big for your scrawny ass."

"Sam!"

"Well, partially true?"

"Too close to the truth." Callen sighed. "It was strong current, but my trunks stayed on, just drifted—"

"Drifted off course like your pseudo-truth story."

"Sam!"

"Yes?"

"It _is_ what happened."

"How old were you?"

"Old enough to have known about my birthmark, but dumb enough I never inspected my skin and noticed anything."

"And what age would that be?"

"Damn it, you can't let this slide?"

"You know me by now."

Callen sighed. "18."

"Ooh, 18, your first date."

"In a minute, I'm gonna slug you."

"Bet you don't have the strength nor the stamina to even reach over here."

"You're asking for it, Sam," Callen said, swinging his legs over until his shoes touched the floor.

"Yeah, now all you need to do is swing that arm."

"Wouldn't want to give you the satisfaction." Callen stood and steadied himself with the armrest. He almost fell over. Sam rushed over to his side. Callen gave him a half-hearted slug in the biceps.

"That was a sneaky move, feigning weakness."

"Not feigning, Sam, need to get to the bathroom, and I'm feeling super dizzy and weak."

"Probably too much crappy carbs and no protein," Sam said. "I've got a high protein bar in my locker. You need it more than me." He helped his partner over to his locker and removed the protein bar. Before he could hand it to him, G slumped in his arms. "G!" He was out cold. Sam brought him back to the couch and laid him down. He autodialed Hetty. Something wasn't right about his partner. Skin cold and clammy to the touch.

Hetty hurried into the lounge and checked on Mr. Callen. "When did this happen?"

"Just a few minutes ago."

"Getting out of the hospital too soon." She placed his lower legs on several pillows. "It appears he's fainted. What did he eat today?"

"Donuts and coffee."

"It's no wonder he's fainting." Hetty laughed.

"He missed not having his donuts in the ICU, so I had a donut party for him," Sam said. "Italian should be here soon. I was about to give him a protein bar."

"When he comes around, make sure you do, little bites at first though," she said. "I'll be in my office."

Callen moaned and started to turn to his right side. Sam crouched beside him. "Okay, G?"

"Is this some kind of new Navy SEAL exercise?" He snickered.

"You mean your elevated legs?" Sam asked. "You can do your daily sit ups." He laughed.

"Yeah, sure, whenever my chest stops hurting."

"Hetty did it, because you fainted."

"What?" He lifted his head and fell back.

"Here, eat a piece of this." Sam offered him the protein bar.

"Nauseated."

"Low blood sugar, G."

"I hope so." He took a small bite and chewed it thoroughly. "Too much of a good thing: A donut sugar rush followed by a crash. I didn't get anything to eat this morning."

"That's what you get for going AMA on us." Sam winked at him.

"Glad I did, instead of waiting there for that woman to harm me in some way."

"Me too, G," he said. "Looks as if Italian is here, I can smell it." Sam straightened and spun around, coming face to face with an average height woman in her 60s, dressed in military, camouflage fatigues, her Ruger Kp94 aimed at his abdomen. Two men, about half her age and dressed the same, held Deeks and Kensi at gun point with two suppressed Browning Buckmarks.

* * *

><p><strong>Three more chapters...<strong>

**Thanks for reading and for the reviews.**


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

Sam stepped sideways to hide his partner's face from the woman, the same suspect they were pursuing in their investigation. G was in no condition to have this woman harass or confront him. He heard his partner behind him, texting and if he knew G, he was sending it to Hetty.

"Give me the box," the woman said with a thick Serbian accent. "Or your agents die."

Hetty entered the lounge, her Rohrbaugh R9 aimed at the woman's head. "Leave now and there will be no consequences for your actions."

"I won't leave this building without the box."

Hetty cocked the hammer on her gun. "Not an option."

"If you make me leave without the box, my two sons will kill your agents."

"Your sons?" Hetty asked.

The men were the same ones arrested at Agent Callen's house the day he was shot.

"If I am killed, they are prepared to do my bidding."

"Mr. Hanna, please take your partner into the other room." Hetty eyed toward the gym.

"Hetty, I'll handle this," Callen said, sitting up and staring at the woman. "I have what you want, but I'm not giving you the box. I'll give you the evidence you're seeking."

"And who are you?"

"That doesn't matter," he said. "I know what you want and I'm ready to give it to you, provided you do as I request."

"And that is?"

"Leave and take your sons with you," he said. "And I mean go back to Serbia and never return to this country."

"I'm not prepared to do that unless I have what I came here for."

"And I told you I'm willing to give you the evidence," Callen said. "Do we have a deal?"

"My sons won't be prosecuted?"

"If all of you leave this country today with the evidence, I won't prosecute your sons for attempted murder."

"Who the hell are you?"

He sighed. "I know who you are and what you did." Callen stood up and grabbed the gun out of Sam's holster. He steadied himself with the sofa's armrest and aimed the SIG-Sauer P228 at her face.

She stared at Callen for several minutes. "Ви сте његов син."

"Yes, I am his son," he said. "And you are my father's murderer, Ana Nikitovic."

"Who _are_ you?"

"It doesn't matter what my name is."

"How do I know you won't hunt down my family kill them?"

"You mean as you did mine?" Callen asked. "I have no desire for retribution, Ms. Nikitovic, I only wish for you to leave and take your sons with you and never return to this country again. Now put your weapons down and kick them over here."

"Why should we do that?"

"Because I contacted my supervisor and asked her to ready our secondary team." The corners of his mouth turned upward. "When she gives the word, they are ready to storm this building. I sent a text message to her," he said. "Weapons down and kick them over here."

"And you'll give me the photographic evidence?"

"If you do as I instructed, I promise to keep my word." Callen started to tire fast, standing and holding the weapon trained on Ana Nikitovic was zapping his energy. His knees started to buckle, dizziness and weakness washed over him, again. Low blood sugar. Damn.

The three suspects kicked over their weapons. Deeks and Kensi searched them for more weapons. Callen handed Sam's gun back to him. He collapsed on the leather couch. With the sound of his heart beat pounding in his head, Callen tried to catch his breath.

"Hetty," Callen said, breathless, his voice weaker than it had been all day. "Here's the photograph."

"You need to lay down."

"When they have left," Callen said. "I can't relax until I know they're gone."

The secondary team entered the bullpen and took Ana Nikitovic and her sons into custody.

* * *

><p><strong>Two more chapters...<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks "lizard1969" for telling me about the missing translation.<strong>

**The woman says: Ви сте његов син :**

**You are his son.**

**Although, this is no longer necessary, as I changed the wording to reflect a translation within the text.**


	19. Chapter 19

** Author's Notes: From Ch 18, I forgot to add the following translations:**

** The woman says: Ви сте његов син :**

** You are his son.**

* * *

><p><strong> Chapter 19<strong>

The team helped themselves to the Italian food Kensi and Deeks brought back.

"A smooth move, G," Sam said, "congratulations." He brought his partner some lasagna and garlic bread. "Beer?"

"It would go great with my muscle relaxant and painkiller." Callen snickered. "I'll be feeling no pain soon."

"And sleeping," he said.

"Yeah, that too."

Deeks sat in one of the two chairs and Kensi in the other one. "I've never seen such a smooth operator as when you took the reins, Callen," Deeks said. "Great job. Now, when can we get back to our games?"

"Callen needs to heal first. Give the guy a chance," Kensi said. "He just signed out of the hospital AMA." She winked at Callen.

"The Italian tastes good," Callen said, ignoring both of their comments. "Where's my medicines?"

"Here you go, G." Sam sat next to him on the sofa and handed him his two pills.

He downed them with his beer. Callen couldn't wait for the stupor of the pain medications to take over. After standing up for that length of time, his energy was zapped for anything but eating and resting. A drugged stupor sounded just about right for now. Callen nodded off and closed his eyes for what felt as if it were a few seconds. His fork dropped on his plate. If it had not be a paper plate, his partner would've heard the fork make contact with it. Callen lifted his head, forcing his eyes to stay open.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you that drugs and alcohol don't mix?" Deeks asked.

"Right now, I could give a crap."

"Foul mood, G."

"Yeah, sorry, I'm very tired."

"More like exhausted, Mr. Callen," Hetty said, entering the lounge. From a distance, she watched him doze off several times. "Everyone scoot for now." She gestured with her hands as if the rest of the team were a flock of geese. "Callen needs his rest." She took the plate and beer from her agent and set them on the side table. "You need to rest now or be readmitted to the hospital."

"It's a no to the hospital, Hetty," he said, his voice quavering from fatigue and the drugs. Hetty, as always, was protecting Callen from himself. He laid down on his right side.

Hetty pulled a blanket over him. "There are some things left unfinished, Mr. Callen." She sat in the chair, closest to his face. "How do you wish to proceed with this family?" Hetty leaned forward, keeping her voice low.

"Just as I said."

"If they never return to this country, no prosecution?"

"Yes, Hetty."

"If they do?"

"I'll hunt them down and annihilate them."

"It is my hope, that when the time comes, you ask for help from your partner."

"I can't include him in this."

"I expect you to involve him in your family's affairs."

"What?" Callen jaw dropped. He propped his head up with his right hand.

"Sam needs to be there to protect you."

"I don't want him entangled in my family's business."

"Like or not, Mr. Callen, it is too late for that," Hetty said. "He is now. And the thing is, he'd do it for you."

"Sam told you that?"

"Yes, right after Ms. Nikitovic and her sons were escorted out of here," she said. "He pulled me aside and divulged his commitment to protect you at all costs. The other thing is Arkady Kolcheck."

He sighed.

"Sticky situation, Mr. Callen?"

"I think I know why he sent those Russian agents to my house."

"Run your theory by me."

"He wanted to give me a heads up and tell me there was something in my house."

"The thing is, Mr. Callen, how did he know?"

"He told me before, he keeps a mental file of disclosures people have made to him about specific things."

"And this specific thing, the box you hid in Alina's house, came in handy for him to send Russian agents to your house?"

"I believe Arkady's purpose was to warn me about potential problems which could arise because of the box."

"And possibly place you in danger as well?"

"What can I say?" Callen yawned and blinked his eyes, trying to stay awake a little longer. "His reputation precedes him." The corners of his mouth turned upward into a half smile. With the combination of extreme fatigue, a painkiller, a muscle relaxant, and the beer, sleep was coming faster than he planned. "Leave the relationship as is and not pursue any prosecution."

"Including the Russian agents?" Hetty asked.

"Yes, I'll talk to Arkady, Hetty." His eyes blinked again and he lowered his hand.

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><p><strong> One more chapter…<strong>


	20. Chapter 20

**Author's Notes: Well, this is it. The final chapter for Kith and Kin, I hoped you enjoyed the journey. Thanks for the reviews and for reading.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 20<strong>

Sam drove the Challenger toward their Saturday evening's laser tag destination in Studio City. Callen pulled a cherry Tootsie Pop from the glove box, unwrapped it, and sucked on it. "You sure you feel up to this?" Sam asked.

"More like, are you sure we can win?"

"Yeah, I guess that comes to mind."

"We practiced and I'm healed," Callen said. "I even got a doctor's note if you want to see it."

"You're full of it, today."

"Feeling good now that I'm back in my home."

"Sleeping better in that snazzy, new bed of yours?"

"As a matter of fact, yes."

"Good."

"Donuts afterward?"

"Everyone together for donuts?"

"Okay, Sam, but I like our tradition."

"And you like your new 'family' too?"

"Yeah, I guess, hard choices."

"You can have both you know."

"Hard to choose which one I like to spend more time with," Callen said, winking at his partner.

"Glad you winked at me, G, because you could easily hurt my feelings."

"You serious?"

"No, man, pulling your leg."

"Or my shooting arm."

"Glad you didn't break your right arm."

"That would've sucked big time."

"Did you print out Deeks's comeuppance?"

"In triplicate." Callen snickered. "I want to make sure he has one, if he throws the first one away. I hope he blushes big time and Kensi takes pictures."

"Trying to exact retribution, G?"

"Me, innocent me?"

"Not so innocent you." Sam sniggered. "I can't wait to see his face when he reads it."

"Problem with that is what did they come up with for you?"

"No problem with that as long as we beat them this time," Sam said. "And my teammate doesn't shoot me."

"It was an accident."

"When it comes to laser tag, you're an accident waiting to happen." He laughed.

"Not fair."

"Fair, you went into your 'I'm losing ballistic mode.'"

"Just for a couple of seconds."

"I agree with Deeks, glad you don't go wacko on me during an ops."

"Am I that unstable?" Callen's brow furrowed.

"If you were that unstable, G, you and I wouldn't be riding in this car together on the way to a laser tag outing."

"Was that supposed to be a compliment?"

"You serious?"

"Yeah, was it?"

"You're the smoothest operator I know, and what happened four weeks ago proves it," Sam said. "You were on your game, G, handling Ana Nikitovic the way you did."

"Thank you."

Sam parked the Challenger and together they climbed out of the car.

"We've waited here all day," Deeks said, greeting Sam and Callen at the Space Station Fun Center's door.

"Yeah, right, all day, does that mean you didn't have time to print off your comeuppance?" Callen asked, winking at him.

"No, we're already," Kensi said.

"Okay, let's exchange them," Sam said.

Kensi handed Sam his comeuppance while Callen handed Deeks his.

Deeks opened the envelope and pulled the paper out."No way in… this isn't fair or right or…" Deeks said.

"Or advantageous or equitable or—"

"You're dead, Callen."

"Someone tried and they weren't successful," he said. "What makes you think you'll be any different?" Callen laughed.

"Smart ass!"

"Let me see," Kensi said, trying to grab the paper from him.

"I'll rip it to shreds before you can see it."

"Don't worry Deeks, I have two more copies."

"Did you spend every waking hour in the hospital devising this despicable scheme?"

"Actually, it only took five minutes to come up with something after Sam told me about the donuts and you blushing."

"Sam!"

"Well, Deeks, looks as if one person can't wait to see you blush," Sam said.

He stuffed the paper into his back pocket.

"Can't do that Deeks, remember the rules?" Callen said.

"Read it to everyone." He sighed long and deep.

"Just reading ought to give you a nice blush," Callen said. "I hear the color red goes great with blond hair."

"You are so screwed next time, Callen, so screwed."

"Be careful what words you use, Deeks," he said. "Well?"

Deeks pulled the paper out of his back pocket. Kensi glanced over his shoulder. "Now it's my turn to say it," she said, "sweet. Where are you taking me?"

"Damn you."

"Ah, red _looks_ great with blond." Callen laughed. "Is it true that Deeks freaks when he loses and has a comeuppance? After today's game we shall know the truth."

"I'm not losing," he said. "And I don't freak like you."

"We practiced and have some new moves to try on you guys," Sam said. "Share it Deeks."

"All right, I have to ask Kensi for a date, and it has to be rated NC-17."

"Ooh, can't wait to hear the _juicy_ details," Callen said. "Make sure to take pictures and videos."

Deeks shot him a "if looks could kill you'd be dead" glare.

"Sam, what does yours say?" Kensi asked.

He opened up the envelope and read it.

"Glad no one can see you blush?" she asked.

"Oh, I blush, you just have to look closer."

"Well?"

"Says I have to let G be my protector on the next ops."

"Ought to be interesting to be the wimp for once," she said.

"Just hope it doesn't get junior hurt," Deeks said.

"_Junior_?" Callen glared at Deeks.

"Let's take all this excessive testosterone inside," Sam said. "Quick, before a fight breaks out and I have to call Hetty."

Ten minutes later, the two teams outfitted with their vests entered the two story, 3,000 foot laser tag game room with their laser tag weapons ready.

"Good luck Deeks and Kensi, may the best team win," Sam said.

"Agreed," Kensi said.

Fog obscured most of the lower level. Sam and Callen climbed the stairs to the second level and waited in silence for Kensi and Deeks to come to them. They now worked as a well-oiled, cohesive team, using only hand signals to communicate to one another.

Deeks came around a corner and Callen shot him first. Sam shot him a second time.

Kensi rounded the same corner and got hit twice as well.

"Damn it, two more times and I'm it," Deeks said, whispering to Kensi.

"Same here," she said. "They have practiced all right."

Deeks and Kensi scrambled downstairs to search the lower level.

Callen and Sam smiled at one another, knowing they had not only stepped up their laser tag game, but their undercover ops game too. They waited in their secure and hidden places for their junior agents to return.

A few minutes later, Deeks entered their area from the opposite end of a long dark hallway, and got fired on again by both Callen and Sam.

"Damn it!"

"Score and in record time!" Callen jumped up from his hiding spot.

"How did you guys do this so fast?"

"We're not telling," Sam said, straightening from his crouched position behind a huge pillar.

"So Deeks, you ready to take Kensi on the X²?"

"What?"

"X² at Six Flags Magic Mountain, and give her the thrill of her life?"

"Man, Callen, you're cruising for a nasty comeuppance next time."

"If there ever is a next time," he said.

Kensi climbed the stairs to the second floor. "What happened?"

"Your teammate screwed you over, Kens," Sam said.

"Oh, that's yet to come," Callen said, smirking.

"That's it, Callen, picking a fight with me?"

"Whoa, back down, Deeks," Sam said. "I'd consider this a Deeks freaks episode."

"He's pissing me off."

"Can't handle your own medicine?" Callen asked. "You can sure dish it out. Imagine what the tie breaker would have done to your _NC-17 rated_ date."

"Tie breaker?" Deeks asked. "Don't even tell me." He gritted his teeth.

"Ooh, but I want to tell you," he said. "What happened to that humorous, easy going attitude?"

"Callen!"

"I'll back down, Deeks, that is until we get to the donut shop."

"I guess I should stop pouting and take it like a man."

"Well, if you're asking Kensi out on an _NC-17 date_, it would be a good idea to _be_ a man." Callen snickered.

Sam slid between them, holding up his hands in the sign of a "T."

"I guess you're still angry about your comeuppance, Callen."

"And I shouldn't be?"

"I'm sorry, it was not my intention to see you get hurt," Deeks said. "If it's any consolation, I saw a two minute video of your head wound and you resisting treatment from Sam. That's it, nothing else."

"And did you laugh?"

"No, it was serious," he said. "You were bleeding too much for Kensi and I to laugh. Are we good?"

"Yeah, Deeks, we're good."

They shook hands and hugged each other.

"Aw, sweet," Kensi said.

"Can't wait for next weekend's game," Deeks said.

"Same here," Callen said. "Time for a donut party!"

* * *

><p><strong>The End<strong>


End file.
